


Weekend at the Loft

by Aislinn (Cougars_catnip), MavenAlysse



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types, The Sentinel
Genre: Adventuring, Gaming, Gen, switching between 'real world' and 'game world'
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-12
Updated: 2013-06-12
Packaged: 2017-12-14 19:33:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 56,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/840564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cougars_catnip/pseuds/Aislinn, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MavenAlysse/pseuds/MavenAlysse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To celebrate Daryl Bank's birthday, the Major Crimes Unit play D&D. (cowritten with Aislinn Graves)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ch. 1-3 Arrival at the Loft and Gathering the Group

**Author's Note:**

> A 'Sentinel' and Dungeons and Dragons fan fiction story
> 
> by: Maven Alysse and Aislinn
> 
>  
> 
> Disclaimer: “The Sentinel” is the property of Paramount and Pet Fly Productions; whereas AD&D belongs to TRS. No money is being made off of this and is purely for entertainment purposes only.
> 
>  
> 
> A/N: When Aislinn and I began this story [May 2000], we were both actively playing 2nd Edition Advanced Dungeons and Dragons – so most of the mechanics, spell abilities, and monster stats for this story were pulled from those books by TRS, Inc. However, both Ais and I feel that the mechanics of a game should not interfere with the storytelling, so at times the characters (both PCs and NPCs) may go beyond what is “allowed” in the game. For those of you familiar with the D&D roleplaying system and feel that certain aspects of this story do not follow the rules as found in the DM books and other paraphernalia I have two words for you: House Rules. We were having fun and we hope that as you read you will too. For you who are unfamiliar with D&D – hopefully the rules and concepts will be adequately related throughout the story. Enjoy!
> 
>  
> 
> A/N2: 4/16/2013: Discovered that all my dividers for scene changes and whatnot ended up disappearing when posted. So... all asterisks have now been replaced with the eights. Triple eights designate a change over from the Loft to the D&D world. Single eights designate a change in character perspective within either the Loft or D&D setting. Hopefully, this will make reading and understanding a touch easier.

 

A Weekend in the Loft

 

Chapter 1:

 

Simon Banks smiled down at Daryl as the elevator doors opened.  “Excited?”

 

“Definitely,” the young man nodded.  “Do you think everyone will show up?”

 

The tall police Captain placed a hand on his son’s shoulder, gently steering him down the hall.  “They all said they would.  Don’t worry.”

 

“Well, I sent out those invitations ages ago.  Things come up, you know?” Daryl shrugged, trying to show that he wouldn’t be too upset if all of his guests had not been able to attend.

 

Simon just smiled again, one hand raised to knock on the door.  Before he could connect, it opened to reveal a smiling Jim Ellison.  “For once, I’d like to be able to knock.”

 

Jim smirked.  “Sorry, sir.  Come on in.  You’re just in time.”  The large detective clapped Daryl on the shoulder.  “Getting taller every time I see you.  You’ll be your father’s height in no time at all.”

 

The young man beamed in pleasure as he and Simon were ushered into the loft.  The furniture had been rearranged a bit, a few of the kitchen chairs had been added, creating a circle of seats around the coffee tables.  A stand up tray stood beside one seat and Ellison gestured that this would be the seat of honor.

 

Ellison took Simon’s and Daryl’s overnight bag and headed up the stairs with them.

 

Detectives Henri Brown and Brian Rafe were in the kitchen preparing bowls of chips and dip.  Both men bantering over the best way to prepare cheese dip.  Detective Taggart sat on the couch, setting out the drinks.  He rose as Simon and Daryl arrived, giving the younger man a large hug.  “Happy Birthday, Daryl.”

 

“Thanks, Joel.”

 

Inspector Megan Conner stepped out of Blair’s bedroom.  “I thought I heard your voice.”  The Australian came over and kissed Daryl’s cheek, making the young man blush.  “Happy Birthday.”

 

Daryl cleared his throat self-consciously.  “Thank you, Ms. Conner.”

 

“Megan,” she corrected him.  “We’re all friends here.  I’d like it if you called me Megan.”

 

“Okay, Megan.”  He blushed when his father chuckled and ruffled his hair. “Dad!”

 

“Have a seat.  You can get your things ready while we wait for the others.”

 

“Yeah, where are Blair and Rhonda?”

 

Jim answered as he jogged down the stairs.  “They went to the corner store to pick up some more supplies.  We forgot the napkins and paper plates.”

 

Daryl opened his backpack and started pulling out books, paper, pencils, and a small cloth bag that rattled.  The books were propped against the chair; some of the paper and pencils were placed on the coffee table while the rest were put on the TV tray.  A screen shielded the tray’s contents from casual glances by seated individuals.

 

The front door opened revealing Rhonda McKendall and Blair; both weighed down by several cardboard boxes and plastic bags.  “Dinner’s ready,” the detective quipped.

 

Joel and Jim hurried over helping with their burdens.  “What did you get, Chief?”

 

Rhonda answered.  “We figured everyone would be hungry and chips and dip don’t really do anything for that, so we ordered pizza.”

 

Henri and Brian exchanged high-fives.  “All right, Hairboy.  Good going.”

 

Blair rolled his eyes but grinned as the entire group congregated in the kitchen, opening boxes and loading up their plates with the hot pizza.  Blair handed the first slice to Daryl.  “Birthday boys get first dibs, man.  Didn’t you know that?”

 

Before he knew it, the guest of honor was settled in his chair with a plate of cheese and black olive pizza, three types of chips, two types of dip, and chocolate chip cookies that Megan had brought.  A soda sat beside him and there was a promise of cake and ice cream later that evening.  The others arranged themselves around the table.  Megan and Rhonda had claimed the short couch.  Jim, Simon and Joel had snagged the other couch.  Brian and Henri took the kitchen chairs.

 

Blair came out of the kitchen with his own food and noted that all the seats had been taken.  Henri and Brian smirked up at him.  “Oh, I see how it is,” Blair mocked groused.  “That’s fine, I don’t need a chair, unlike some people.”  He blinked innocently over at Brian and Henri then grinned and curled up in a lotus position on the floor, leaning up against Jim’s legs, and began munching happily on his chips.

 

Daryl finished his slice, bushed the crumbs off his hands, and cleared his throat.  “Okay, how many of you have ever Role Played before, or at least know what it is?”

 

“I’ve played D&D, as well as Call of Cthuhlu,” Brian supplied.

 

Henri looked at his partner in surprise.  “I never thought you’d be into that kind of stuff.”

 

Brain shrugged.  “I had a cousin who dragged me into it.  But once I got the systems down, they were a lot of fun.  There hasn’t been much time to join in a campaign lately, I’m real glad Daryl decided to do this for his birthday.”

 

Megan grinned.  “I’ve played Shadowrun before.  It’s a lot like D&D, right?”

 

Daryl nodded.  “Yeah, just there’s not nearly as much technology in D&D as there is in Shadowrun.”

 

“You ever do any of this, Chief?”  Jim nudged Blair’s shoulder with his knee.

 

“I used to.  When I was an undergraduate.  Some D&D, a bit of Shadowrun, but I also got into live action World of Darkness.  Played a Garou.”

 

“What’s a Garou?” Joel stumbled over the word.

 

With a flashed grin at Jim Blair said, “Werewolf.”

 

Jim tousled Blair’s hair while Simon suppressed a snicker.

 

Rhonda spoke up.  “My niece plays D&D.  I’ve watched her and her friends play a few times, but I’ve never played myself.”

 

“Same with me,” Brown admitted.  “A roommate was really into it, but I never had the time to play.”

 

“Okay,” Daryl sat up, his tone becoming more serious.  “This weekend we’re playing D&D, or Dungeons and Dragons.  The game system is set on another world about the time of our middle ages, so, there is very little technology available.  The main difference is that magic is real and mythological creatures aren’t so mythological.”

 

“How do you mean?” Joel interrupted.

 

“Well, in this world, you could actually come up face to face with a dragon.”

 

“Yeah,” Blair added.  “And get crispy fried if you aren’t fast enough or clever enough to escape.”

 

Daryl continued.  “There are elves, dwarves, halflings, pixies, centaurs, ogres, goblins.  You name it; you could probably come up against one in this world.  Now, this is a role playing game.  That means that you are all going to decide on a character to be and then pretend you are that character throughout the game.  However you decide your character is supposed to act, that’s how you really act when talking to one another.  The more you interact with one another instead of just going from battle to battle, the more fun this will be for you all.  Make sense?”

 

There were nods all around the circle.

 

“I’ve got eight characters here.  Let me explain what each of them are and then you guys can figure out who’s going to be who.  I’ve got a Dwarven fighter.  Dwarves are usually stone or metal workers.  They live underground and can see in the dark.  They are short, between three and four feet tall, and extremely strong.  They are also a bit wary of magic they don’t know. 

 

“I have a human Barbarian.  Barbarians are excellent fighters.  They usually live up in the north and aren’t bothered by extreme cold or heat.  They are stoic, very tall individuals, and also extremely strong.  Like Dwarves, they don’t trust magic they don’t know. Both are in the class called fighters; which means they are masters of weapons and can use magic items though they can’t cast magical spells themselves. 

 

“Next is an Elven thief.  Elves can see in the dark, are slender and graceful looking, and usually have high dexterity.  Thieves can pick pockets, open locks, find and remove traps, move silently, hide in shadows, detect noise, climb walls, and have a chance to be able to read foreign languages.   The thieving skills are based on a percentage.  The higher the level you are, the better percentage you have of being able to do those things.  They also know Thieves’ Cant, and they are proficient at backstabbing.

 

“Then there’s a human Ranger.  Rangers are people who live out in the woods or forest areas and keep the peace.  Kind of like our real life Park Rangers, except instead of a gun, they use bows and arrows and swords.  As a skilled woodsman they can track, hide in shadows and move silently.  They also have a limited degree of animal empathy with both trained and untamed creatures.  At higher levels they can learn some clerical spells dealing with plants and animals.  They tend to be loners.

 

“Next is a human Paladin.  Paladins are knights.  They are very dedicated and honorable and strive to be an example to others.  Paladins have special capabilities: they can detect the presence of evil intent up to 60 feet away if they concentrate on it, they’re immune to diseases, can heal by laying on hands and cure diseases, are surrounded by an aura of protection, and can turn undead.”

 

“What?” The interruption came almost simultaneously from Joel, Henri and Rhonda.  “Undead?”

 

Daryl grinned.  “Yeah, the undead.  Like zombies and the occasional vampire.  Since a Paladin is considered a ‘good’ character, then they have the same power a cleric does in getting rid of the undead which are ‘evil’.”

 

Daryl checked his paper and continued.  “I’ve got an Elven Mage.  Magi are magic users.  They study strange tongues and obscure facts.  They rely on knowledge and wits to survive since they tend to be poor fighters with little knowledge of weaponry.  They cast spells depending on their level and what they have memorized.  The types of spells they can cast depends on if they decide to be ‘good’, ‘evil’ or ‘neutral’ characters.  I’ve got a list of spells whoever decides to be the Mage can use.  Some Magi have a familiar, an animal or spirit that helps them with their spell casting and is a companion to the Mage.  But if you choose to have a familiar, you should know that the two of you are connected, you share hit points. That means, if your animal is hit in a battle, you can feel its pain and if it dies, you could very well follow it.

 

“Then there’s our human Cleric.  A Cleric is a priest or priestess of some sort.  The world is ruled by a variety of gods and goddesses. Clerics can use magic as well, but instead of studying like a Mage, they pray to their god for their spells.  Most Clerics use their abilities for healing, but you’re not restricted to that.  Same as with the Magi, your list of spells depends on what alignment you choose.  They don’t get familiars, but sometimes their deity can grant them special privileges, like being able to breath underwater or something like that, but if they abuse their powers, their deity can take away their abilities as punishment.  Now, unlike Magi, Clerics are sturdy soldiers; but they tend to use blunt, bludgeoning weapons.  Clerics have power over the undead; they can drive them away, destroy them, and sometimes even control them.  They can’t use spells that deal with plants, animals, weather or elemental spheres.”

 

“Why not?” Rhonda asked.

 

“Those are part of a Druid’s repertoire, Clerics and Druids have different areas that their spells cover.  Speaking of Druids.  My last character available is a Half-Elven Druid.  A Half-Elf is someone with mixed heritage, human mom and Elven dad, or vice versa.  Their life spans are longer than humans, but shorter than Elves.  They can see in the dark like all Elves, but aren’t necessarily as dexterous.  A Druid is similar to Magi and Cleric in that they cast spells, but their spells are generally related to healing and nature and some divination.  Their holy symbol is the mistletoe.  They can have a familiar, or just an animal companion, a creature that decides to bond with them.  Some Druids are gifted with the ability to shape-change. They can’t turn undead.  Druids are fighters, like Clerics, but they don’t have problems with blood shedding, especially if someone’s doing unnecessary destruction or exploitation of nature for profit. Oh, and another thing, Druids often prefer subtle and devious methods of revenge against those who defile nature.  It’s well known that Druids are both very unforgiving and very patient.”

 

Daryl put the list of characters out on the coffee table.  “That’s all of them.  Now you guys get to decide who’s going to be who.”  He leaned back in his seat, a look of anticipation on his face.

 

Henri grabbed the sheaf of papers and pulled one of the character sheets. “I think Simon should be the Paladin.  Dedicated and honorable. What do you say, Captain?”

 

Blair piped up. “It’s totally you, Simon.”

 

Simon shot a mock glare at the youngest detective.  He took the sheet, glancing over the characteristics, not missing the murmurs of agreement the rest of his people gave.  Slowly, he nodded, a smile forming on his face.  “Yeah, I could see myself as a Paladin.”

 

“While the others decide on their characters, you need to chose a name you’ll go by, Dad.”

 

At his father’s frown, the young dungeon master hurriedly reassured, “It doesn’t have to be fancy or anything.  Just something you can introduce your character to the others by.”

 

“I’ll let you know when I think of one.”

 

Henri was trying to decide which of the characters was the most practical.

 

“What do you mean by practical, H?” Megan inquired.  “It’s a role playing game.  There aren’t any practical characters.”

 

“Sure there are.  You have your fanciful characters, like the Mage and Cleric.  Then you’ve got your heroic characters like the Paladin. I just want something simple.”

 

Joel nodded his understanding.  “As fascinating as all this is, I’d feel more comfortable with a character that doesn’t have too many special abilities or anything.  It’s so much to remember.”

 

“Well, magic is a bit difficult to work with, and the only characters that don’t deal with magic are the Dwarf, the Barbarian, the Thief and the Ranger.”  Rhonda’s light clear tones drifted over the table. “And even then, the Thief and Ranger have specific capabilities.”

 

“Dwarves are solid and dependable,” Blair noted, his eyes meeting Joel’s.

 

Joel ducked his head with a smile of pleasure.  “Sounds good to me.  Do you mind, Henri?”

 

“Humn.” Henri glanced down at the character sheets.  “Yeah, this’ll work.  I can be the Barbarian.”  He handed the Dwarf over to the former Bomb Squad Captain, settling back in his seat to read his own sheet more carefully.

 

Megan began snickering to herself, shaking her head at the questioning looks that others shot her.  “I think Rafe should be the Thief.”

 

Rafe looked up, startled, blushing a furious red as he was caught trying to snag a second cookie off of Blair’s plate. Jim mock-growled, “I agree,” and he deftly deflected the younger detective’s wandering hands.

 

Blair retrieved his plate off the coffee table with an indignant yelp, securing it on the floor by his side, as far from Rafe as possible. “Just you watch it, Brian.  When you least expect it, I’ll get you for that.”  The twinkle in his eyes belied the serious words, though Brian was a bit nervous at the mischievous look that crossed Blair’s face.

 

“I’m sorry.  I’m sorry.  But I mean, you took five of them, Blair.”

 

“Course I did.  How else did you expect me to keep up my high energy level all night without the proper sustenance?”  He gestured to his mug of herbal tea and the full plate.  “Megan brought plenty, so I figured this way I wouldn’t have to get up so often for one.”

 

Megan leaned over and snagged a carrot stick off Blair’s plate with a grin, then turned her attentions back to Rafe.  “Do you accept the title?”

 

Brian looked over the sheet, his face expressing his interest as he read further.  “So, from what it says here, I get to be a sneaky smooth talker?”  Daryl nodded.  Brian glanced down at Blair, a grin showing.  “Wanna give me some pointers?”

 

While the others snickered, Blair looked up at him with innocent eyes. “You mean after nearly five years working together you haven’t been able to figure out how I do it?  You sure you’re in the right profession, man?”

 

“Touché.” Rafe smiled ruefully then took up the proper character sheet to the amused applause of everyone.

 

“I’ll be the Ranger, if no one else wants it.”

 

Simon looked surprised.  “Are you sure?  I mean, it wouldn’t be much of a role play if your character is so close to what you used to do in real life.”

 

Jim rubbed the side of his head.  “Maybe.  But like Henri and Joel, I’m more comfortable playing something simple.  I know how a Ranger is supposed to act and react.  Just throw in a bit of magic.  Shouldn’t be too hard.”  He kept his face still at the comment directed softly in his direction, but he did nudge his partner’s shoulder with his knee in acknowledgement.

 

“That leaves us with our three magic users.  The Mage, the Cleric and the Druid.”  Daryl announced, his gaze fastening on the last three gamers to choose.

 

“I don’t know which one to choose,” Rhonda admitted.

 

“Well, it depends on whether you want to study your spells, pray for them, or have them innately,” Blair mentioned, his relaxed body language told the two women that the decisions were up to them, he’d take whatever was left.

 

“I think Blair should be the Druid,” Joel spoke up.  “It suits him.” Blair looked up in surprise, though by now those gathered had been told the truth about Jim’s abilities, Blair was still uncertain of his own role as Shaman, thus, only Simon had been told of some of the minor things the Guide had discovered the ability to do.

 

Without hesitation, the rest announced their agreement.  “Besides,” Rhonda pointed out. “It leaves you the chance to be Jim’s partner in the game, both of your characters like living in the forest.”

 

With a brilliant smile that seemed to brighten the room, Blair snagged the character sheet off the table.

 

“And we all know what the kid can do if he or his is crossed, don’t we?” Henri nudged Brian in the ribs.

 

Brian gulped at the slightly evil grin Blair shot in his direction.  “I said I was sorry,” he muttered glumly.

 

Good-natured laughter filled the loft.

 

“Megan’s going to be the Cleric,” Rhonda decided.  “I can see her as a devout soldier, battling her way through the heathens.”

 

Megan grinned, pantomiming aiming a blow at Rafe’s head.  “Repent, sinner!”

 

Brian spread his hands out in supplication.  “Oh, holy one, forgive me. I’m not worthy!”

 

“That leaves the Mage for me.”

 

“Are you sure, Rhonda?” Simon frowned in concern.  “From what Daryl told me, Mages can be the hardest class to play.”

 

Rhonda shook her head.  “I’m sure.  My niece frequently plays a Mage, I’ve watched her enough times that I’m pretty sure I can get a handle on it.”

 

“If you need any help, let me know,” Daryl offered.  At her nod, he began passing out pencils and Post-It Notes to everyone.  “If you have something you want to ask, write the question down and hand it to me.  It’ll keep the interruptions down to a minimum, allowing for smoother role-playing.  Also, if your character is doing something that you don’t want anyone else knowing about, write that down too.  If it’s necessary, I’ll have people role a perception percentile to see if they noticed.  I need a name for everyone.  Take a few minutes to look over your characters.  Think about it and let me know if you have any questions.”  The young man rose and headed towards the bathroom.

 

The others placed their character’s names and extenuating circumstances on Daryl’s tray and made some tentative plans with each other. Daryl returned and resettled himself in his seat.  He took a sip of soda as he read over everyone’s notes, then addressed the group. “Okay, so where is everybody?”

 

Jim jerked a thumb down at where Blair sat.  “We’re in the forest, East of town, dealing with some trolls.”

 

“I meet Simon’s character down at the market.  He’s just got back to town,” Megan added.

 

Rhonda shifted in her seat, long fingers lightly clasped together on her knees.  “I’m at home, going over my spells.”

 

“I’m at my forge, making some horseshoes for a customer,” Joel rumbled.

 

Brown grinned.  “I’m wandering around town looking for him.”  He pointed at Rafe.

 

Rafe returned the grin.  “I’m casing a house from across the street as a possible mark for later tonight.”

 

“Welcome to the city of Cadecas a bustling coastal metropolis.  The seaport town shares the trade-routes with the city of Cavanocuv.  These days, the trade is brisk and prosperous, the people relatively friendly and the conditions of the city are better than fair.  Currently allies, it is an uneasy peace as trade-routes become scarcer.”

 

888

 

Chapter 2:

 

A slender Elf leaned nonchalantly against the side of a building, absently flicking shoulder length, dark auburn hair over one shoulder. Hawk studied the building across from him with an appraising eye.  The two story house had minimal security.  The challenge was that it was never completely unoccupied.  A small sly grin graced his lips and his jade green eyes glittered in anticipation.  This was going to be fun.

 

A prickling at the base of his neck had the Elven thief whirling suddenly, dagger in hand.  Gaze darting along the length of the alley, then focusing on a small figure standing against the far wall.

 

“Kinda jumpy, aren’tcha Hawk?”

 

“Trisk. What are you doing in Cadecas?  I thought you were working Cavanocuv these days?”  His tone was one of faint disapproval.

 

“Yeah, well, things were getting a bit hot there, you know?  Sweddar is making it nearly impossible for anyone to do any solo work.  It’s the Guild or …” she drew a finger slowly across her throat with a faint shiver.  She sauntered over, a mischievous glint in her eye. She slipped an arm around his neck, leaning in close, her other arm snaking around his waist.  “I figured, since I was in town and all, we could have some fun tonight.  You know, like old times?”  She moved in for a kiss.

 

Hawk untangled her from him, keeping his hands on her shoulders as he stepped back.  “Whatever happened to ‘I’m not ready for a relationship, Hawk’?”

 

Trisk shrugged, dropping her arms to her sides.  “Can’t a girl change her mind?” she asked in an innocent tone.  But Hawk noticed how her eyes darted down the street.  She edged away from him.

 

“What’s going on, Trisk?”

 

She shook her head, her laugh a short bark, tinged with hysteria.  “Not a thing, my dear.  Not a thing.  I’ll be seeing you around, Hawk. May your luck be better than mine.”  With that, she slipped out of the alley and down the street.

 

He watched her go, then knelt beside his pack to see what she had dropped in.  It was a small carved box, approximately  four by six inches in diameter.  The sides were intricately carved with what looked like a very detailed map of the continent.  He rapped it with his knuckles.  It sounded solid, but weighed next to nothing, considering its size.  Sensitive fingers detected a near-invisible seam around the entire perimeter, but none of his daggers were thin enough to gain a foothold.

 

888

 

“What are you going to do with it?” Daryl asked.

 

“As an acquisition artist, do I know anything about the box?”

 

Grins flashed.

 

“You think the carving and structure is Dwarven in design.”

 

“Do I know any Dwarves?”

 

“There is a Dwarven Blacksmith, Joryn Irontoes, in the Market area.  You know him by reputation as an honest being and one with an interest in mysteries.”

 

“I head down towards the Market.”

 

888

 

Strolling down the Market aisles Hawk heard his name called over the bustle of the crowd.  Turning, he saw a large, dark-haired, dark skinned human, wearing the trews and tunic of the Highland Barbarians.  The black, shoulder-length hair was arranged in rows of tight braids.  A large battle-ax was strapped across his broad back, the handle visible by his hip.  The crowd parted before him as the near-giant strode down the street.

 

“Hawk. Where have you been?  You were supposed to meet me at least a candlemark ago.”

 

The Elf groaned.  “Ah, Heron.  I’m sorry.  I was so caught up in what I was doing that I lost track of time.”

 

“So which one was it, humn, casing, conning, or wenching?”

 

“A bit of them all.  Remember Trisk?”

 

A frown formed on the large man’s face.  “That girl-child who thought she’d make a better haul by fishing on both sides of the river?”

 

“Yeah, that’s her.  She was here in Cadecas, gave me this.”  He pulled out the box to show his friend.

 

Heron checked the seams but couldn’t open it, despite applying his considerable strength.  “What is it?”

 

“Not sure.  But I plan to find out.  Come on.”

 

“Where are we going?”

 

“To see a Dwarf about a box.”

 

Joryn Irontoes looked up from his forge as the Elf and Barbarian entered his shop. Though only coming up to Hawk's shoulder, the Dwarf's had a stocky build. The jet black beard hung in well cared for locks down to the waist, while the pate was bald as an egg. Dark eyes gazed at them shrewdly.  “How may I help you, gentlebeings?” his voice deep and gravelly.

 

“I was wondering if you could tell me anything about this?”  Hawk produced the box.

 

888

 

“Okay, Joel.  Rafe just handed you a wooden box.”

 

Joel studied his character sheet.  “Um … I use … um … Ancient History on it.”

 

Daryl nodded.  “Roll it.”

 

Joel picked up a twenty-sided die and let it fall on the coffee table.  “A two.”  Joel looked worried.  “Is that good?”

 

Rhonda hastened to reassure.  “Oh, yeah.  In Skill rolls, the lower you roll, the better.  You want to roll below the number of your Attribute.”

 

“It’s a great roll, Joel.  Okay, you know that it was made over a thousand years ago by Sevrin Marstone, a legendary Dwarven carver.  It’s a puzzle-box.  When all the pieces are put in the proper places, the locks will open.  Legend says that inside is a fabulous treasure, or the means for finding one.  On one of the sides of the box is a map, only one of the five pieces is on the box, that piece designates a point on the map.”

 

“Like a starting point?”

 

Daryl nodded.

 

Joel looked at the two men.  “Up for an adventure?”

 

Rafe and Brown grinned at each other.  “Lead on.”

 

Daryl interjected.  “Joel, you also remember that unlike most Dwarves, Sevrin Marstone liked to incorporate some form of magic in his pieces.”

 

“Oh.” Joel checked his sheet again.  “I don’t know anything about magic.  Do you guys?”

 

Two negatives.

 

Rafe raised a brow at his partner.  “Reinforcements?”

 

Brown nodded.

 

“You’re in luck.  You know of a reputable cleric in the area who might take kindly to you.”

 

Rafe grinned at Megan.  “You’re about to have company, love.”

 

Megan shot a saucy grin of her own.  “Long as you’re paying, dear.”

 

The group snickered.

 

“Okay, so are all three of you going?”

 

The three men nodded.

 

Megan conferred quietly with Rhonda.  Scribbling something on a piece of paper, she passed it to Daryl.  The young Dungeon Master read the note and acknowledged it.  “You knock on the door of a small cottage on the outskirts of town.  A tall slender Elven maiden opens the door.”

 

888

 

Hawk doffed his cap, a charming smile upon his lips.  “Good afternoon, M’lady.  By any chance, is Healer Myla Silverston at home?”

 

The Elven woman shook her head.  “She’s gone to the Market to pick up some herbs.  I’m Rianna Wainwright.  May I be of service?”

 

Hawk glanced at Heron and Joryn.  “Well, we were hoping she would be able to help us.  You see, it’s something of a magical nature.”

 

Rianna smiled.  “You’re in luck.  I am a Mage of the Third Circle of Falling Waters.  If nothing else, at least accept my hospitality until Myla returns.”

 

Joryn stepped forward, an answering smile on his face.  “We appreciate your offer.  Forgive our manners.  I am Joryn Irontoes.  Your fellow countryman is known as Hawk.  This is Herongard of the Panther Clan.”

 

“Call me Heron,” the large Barbarian rumbled.

 

“A pleasure, gentlemen.”

 

Once seated comfortably, Hawk brought out the puzzle-box.  “We know it’s a puzzle-box, but Joryn says that the maker may have used magic as part of it.”

 

“May I?”  Rianna took the box, running long, sensitive fingers along the wood.  She blinked.  “Oh, interesting.  There’s a mage-lock on this.  It can only be taken off once all the pieces are together, and … “ she frowned, concentrating.  Then she shook her head. “There’s something else here, but I can’t quite figure out what it is.  It’s almost as if another spell is interwoven through with it, but I don’t recognize the design.  You say a Dwarf made this? How odd.”

 

At that point, the door opened, revealing a woman with long black hair caught up in a single braid that hung to her waist.  She was of sturdy build and wore tunic and trews.  A medicine pouch hung off one shoulder.  A large, dark skinned man in plate-mail, held the door for her, his large form filling the doorway.  The woman paused, taking in the quartet, her eyes full of questions, hands on hips.  Her gaze lit on Hawk and a wry grin crossed her face.  “Still having a go at the ladies, Hawk?”

 

Hawk put a hand on his chest, face a tableau of mock-pain.  “You wound me, Myla.”

 

“I just might, at that.”  She held the pose for a moment before breaking into a smile.  “It’s been a while, Hawk.  You look good.”

 

“As do you.”

 

She looked up at Rianna.  “Business?”

 

“Sort of.  More like an intriguing puzzle.  What do you make of this?” Rianna handed over the puzzle-box.

 

Joryn greeted the man in the doorway.  “Are you coming or going, My Lord DeBroviak?”  He stood, clapping the man on his shoulder.  “Simond, it’s been, what, three years?”

 

Simond DeBroviak entered the house, shooting an amused look at the two women conversing over the box.  “More like five, Joryn.  I just got into the town.  Wanted to look up some old friends.”

 

“Bet you were surprised to see these two reprobates.”  He jerked his head over at Hawk and Heron.

 

“Well, on this side of a gaol, at least.”

 

Hawk grinned.  “I resemble that remark.”

 

“What have you been up to lately,” Heron interrupted.

 

Simond drew himself up proudly.  “I’m a knight of the Order of Griffin.”

 

“Griffin? Simond, that’s fantastic,” Myla reentered the conversation.

 

“Paladin?” Rianna asked, eyes alight.

 

Simond nodded.  “As a newly appointed Paladin, I’m required to fulfill a quest of some type within the next three years.  I haven’t found anything, yet, so I’m headed South, towards my homeland.”

 

“We’ve got something you might be interested in,” Hawk motioned towards the puzzle-box, explaining what it was and what it might lead to.

 

Myla summed it up.  “Rianna says there’s a spell-lock on it.  I can detect a Clerical spell on it, as well.  It’s highly unusual for both types to be used together.  But there’s something else added to the mix.  I’m not sure what it is.  Something with the mage-spell.  You can’t take it off until all the pieces are together.”

 

“Where does the first piece lead?”  Simond leaned forward to get a better look at the map.

 

“Looks like the outskirts of Tulgee Wood.  It’d take three days by horse to get there.”

 

Simond traced a likely route through the Wood.

 

“I heard that Wood is haunted,” Rianna spoke up.

 

The others looked at each other.

 

Simond shook his head.  “No.  Well,” he corrected himself.  “Not by any ghosts.”  He looked up and made eye-contact with Myla.  “Jaxon lives there.”

 

She nodded in understanding.  The others were confused.  “Who’s Jaxon?”

 

“Ten years ago, he was a member of our mercenary group, The Ravens.”

 

Myla picked up the story.  “He’s a Ranger.  When the group disbanded, he settled in the Tulgee Wood.”

 

“He didn’t go home?” Joryn asked.

 

“He joined our group because his village had been destroyed.  He had nothing to go back to.  Claimed he felt at peace in Tulgee.”

 

Simond shrugged.  “I saw him a few years ago.  He’s been protecting the Wood.  Seems to enjoy the solitude.  It doesn’t bother him as much as others.”

 

“Think we could get him to escort us through the Wood?” Hawk asked.  “I don’t know about you, but without signposts, I get turned about easily.”

 

“We can always ask.”

 

“So what say you?”  Hawk looked them all in the eye.  “Want to try and solve the puzzle?”

 

One by one, they all agreed.

 

888

 

“Hey, Hairboy, where are the sodas?”  H got out of his chair, heading for the kitchen.

 

“In the fridge.”

 

Rafe was checking the counters.  “Where are the chips?”

 

“In the fridge, next to the sodas.” Blair responded.  “What?  It keeps them from getting stale.”

 

People moved about, filling their glasses and plates, stretching limbs.

 

“Hey, Jim,” Megan called.  “You don’t mind what Simon and I said about your character, do you?  I mean, you never said what your background was.  We can change it if you like.”

 

Jim waved his hand in a negative.  “Don’t worry about it.  It works out real well.  Gives a logical reason for being there.  ‘Sides, it wasn’t much different from what I had planned, anyway.”

 

Megan leaned back, satisfied.  She reached out and snagged some chips as Rafe passed by her.

 

“Hey,” he protested.

 

She stuck her tongue out at him.

 

Rafe turned to Daryl.  “Can we make Megan the thief?  She seems quite taken with it.”

 

Daryl grinned.  “Sorry, can’t change things now.  So what is everyone doing?”

 

Gathering gear was the general consensus.

 

Blair went to his room, returning with a pillow, which he stuck between himself and the couch.

 

“Don’t fall asleep, Chief.  We’re up next.”

 

“Just getting comfortable.  Besides, you never know when a pillow might come in handy.”

 

As everyone settled back down, Daryl pulled out his dice with a decidedly wicked grin.  “You’ve been traveling half a day.  Who has a way of telling direction?”

 

Character sheets were perused and three hands went up.

 

“Please roll your perception.”  He looked at the results.  “Megan. You’re convinced the group is heading South, even though you’re supposed to be going East.  Rhonda, you think the group is heading in the right direction.  And Dad, you think they are going West, back in the direction you started.”

 

“Hold it, hold it.”  Simon put a hand up.  “How can we all think we’re going in different directions?”

 

Joel furrowed his brow.  “Magic?”

 

Rhonda looked at her sheet.  “I cast Detect Magic around us.”

 

“You don’t find anything, other than the magical items the group is carrying.”

 

Blair shifted in his seat, one hand over his mouth to hide a grin.

 

Jim reached over and tugged a lock of curly hair.  “Hush.”

 

“Haven’t said a word, Big Guy.  Not a word.”

 

Rafe looked over at the smartest member of their group.  “What?”

 

Blair glanced over at Daryl, then shook his head.  He rose, heading for the kitchen.  “Sorry, guys.  I’m not there, so I can’t help you.”

 

The others shot startled glances at Daryl.  The young Dungeon Master nodded in solemn agreement, though his eyes glinted in amusement. “Okay, none of you agree as to which direction you are going.”

 

“But it’s not a magical misdirection, right?” Brian asked.

 

“Right,” Daryl agreed.

 

Rafe turned to Simon.  “What are you using?”

 

“I’m a cartographer.  I use my knowledge of maps.”

 

“Not a compass?”

 

“No.”

 

“Then I hate to say it, but you could be wrong, Oh, Paladin.”  He turned to Rhonda.  “You?”

 

“Navigation and Astronomy.  Though it’s mainly for boats.”

 

“How’s the sky look?”

 

Daryl grinned.  “Overcast.”

 

Rhonda shrugged with a smile.

 

“Megan?”

 

“Direction Sense.  Kind of like having a compass in my head.”

 

“I say we follow Megan.  She’ll be able to navigate easier, with the sky covered as it is.”

 

Everyone agreed.

 

Daryl acknowledged that they were indeed headed South, rather than East.

 

888

 

“What’s South?” Hawk asked.  His expression one of mild distaste as he surveyed the trees around him.

 

With his position pinpointed, Simond was able to read the map with greater ease.  “Nothing of interest.  Though, it would have only added a half day’s travel to our journey.”

 

Myla pointed to a faint track leading in the direction they wanted to go. “Shall we?”

 

As dusk crept upon them, they found a likely camping spot for the night, by a small stream.  Simond fashioned a fishing hook and caught three fish.  Heron caught a brace of rabbits using a simple grass snare. Rianna surprised them by volunteering to cook.  “My father enjoyed communing with nature, as he put it.  He’d pack the family up, and we’d spend a few weeks, up to a month, in the Green Heart.  Mother was not amused, but tolerated the excursions for Father’s sake.  I learned to cook anything and everything over a campfire.”

 

In the midst of their meal, Hawk started looking about, nervously.

 

“What’s the matter?” Simond asked.

 

Hawk shook his head, still darting glances in the deeper shadows beneath the trees.  “I feel like we’re being watched.”

 

“Oh, it’s just your over-active imagination.”  Myla scoffed.

 

But Heron shook his head.  “I don’t think so.  Hawk’s got an instinct about things like that.  Simond, can we build up the fire a bit?”

 

The Paladin nodded, throwing a handful of brush into the fire.  “Watch your eyes.”

 

As the fire flared up, they could make out the form of a gray wolf, watching them from the shelter of the trees.  It did not retreat from the increase in light, nor did it move closer.

 

“Gods and goddesses,” Hawk swore, one hand clasping the hilt of a throwing dagger.

 

Heron gripped his battle-ax, but Simond stayed his hand.  He looked over at the Paladin, a question in his eyes.

 

“It’s not harming anything.  I think it’s curious.”

 

“Are there any more of them?” Joryn asked.  His gaze red-tinged as he utilized his infra-vision as the fire died back down.

 

Rianna shook her head.  “I don’t see any other wolves.  A couple of rabbits, a hawk, and a family of squirrels, but that’s it.”

 

“There’s a deer opposite the wolf’s position,” Hawk clarified.  “But no other wolves.”

 

The animal in question, yawned widely, unimpressed by the group’s worry.  Giving them all an appraising look, it moved away, merging with the shadows.

 

“It wasn’t afraid of us, you could tell that,” Rianna marveled.

 

“Perhaps it’s never seen people before.  It doesn’t know to be afraid of us,” Myla reasoned.  “Think it’ll be back?” she asked, squinting in the darkness.

 

“Not sure,” Simond shrugged.  “If it had been hungry, I don’t think it would have left unless it had been threatened.”

 

Hawk shuddered.  “You sure these woods aren’t haunted?  I would swear that thing was intelligent.  It wasn’t afraid of us.  Not because it had never seen people before, but because it knew it could evade us.”  Surprisingly, no one scoffed at the idea.

 

Deciding on a rotation for watch, the small band settled in for the night.

 

The scent of cooking meat woke the group.  Joryn’s deep gravelly voice could be heard, a lighter baritone sounding counter-point.  A large man, dressed simply in tee-tunic and trews, in browns and greens that matched the surrounding Wood, couched before the fire, a cook-pot in one hand and a spoon in the other.  Long hair was gathered neatly in a tail at the nape of his neck.  A large hunting knife was strapped to his belt and a bow and quiver of arrows rested nearby against a log.

 

Joryn laughed at something the larger man said and gave a greeting to the others.  “Good morning.  Sleep well?”

 

The man rose as Simond came nearer.  “Captain DeBroviak.”

The two men shook hands, a smile gracing each’s facial features.  The clasp became a firm embrace.  “Jaxon, how are you?”

 

“Doing well, Sir, doing well.”  He turned to see the Cleric step out of the tent reserved for the women.  “Myla.”

 

With a wide smile, she hugged him hard.  “Damn, Jaxon.  It’s been ten years.”  She stepped back to study him.  “The years have been kind.  What have you been doing with yourself all this time?”

 

“Protecting the Wood.”  He shook hands with the other three before returning to his cook-pot.  “I heard you were in the area.  Thought you could use a friendly face.  Anyone up for some rabbit stew this morning?”

 

As they sat around the campfire, Joryn said, “Jaxon was telling me that there had been a skirmish a few days ago between a caravan headed towards Many Waters and a band of trolls.  Things were getting pretty hairy there, for a while.”

 

Myla shuddered.  “Trolls, ugh.  Nasty creatures.  Did the caravan defeat them?”

 

“Eventually,” came the answer.  “We ended up incinerating the lot of them.  One man died.”

 

“Did you find their lair?” Hawk asked, eyes bright with interest.

 

“Not yet, but we’re looking.  Some of the types of creatures that would be attracted to a Troll’s lair aren’t exactly welcome here.”

 

The others nodded in agreement.

 

“So, what brings you to the Wood?”

 

“We’re on a quest,” Simond began.

 

“Care to join us?” Myla asked.

 

“What kind of quest?” Jaxon settled back, absently whittling a piece of wood as he listened.

 

Hawk exchanged glances between the other members.  Receiving silent acknowledgments, he proceeded to tell the large Ranger of their quest.

 

Jaxon even examined the box, though he returned it with a shake of his head.  “Puzzles aren’t really my strong point, but it sounds fascinated.”

 

“We could always use an extra set of hands.  Want to come along?” Myla asked.

 

Jaxon looked around the circle, seeing acceptance.  “I have to ask my partner.  He might even choose to accompany us for a part of it.”

 

“Partner?” Simond asked, one brow raised.

 

“I told you,” Jaxon spoke in a voice of infinite patience.  “I guard Tulgee Wood.  The place is huge.  You don’t think I could watch the place by myself, do you?”

 

888

 

“I can’t believe it,” H exclaimed with a smile.  “Jim, actually admitting to needing help?”

 

A muffled oomph was heard as Jim grabbed Blair’s pillow, tossing it at Brown, and scoring a direct hit.

 

888

 

“So where is this partner of yours?” Simond asked.

 

“He’s scouting East of here.  There are a couple of likely places that the lair might be.”

 

Rianna frowned.  “Isn’t that dangerous?   I mean, what if the place is occupied.”

 

“Oh, don’t worry about him.  He can take care of himself.”

 

888

 

Daryl raised a hand.  “Okay, let’s hold off on this for a sec.  Blair, come to the kitchen with me.  We’ll get you started.  Bring your character and dice.”

 

The Dungeon Master grabbed a handful of dice and withdrew from the circle.  Blair nodded, snatching his pillow from H as he passed the older man.  “Mine.”  He flashed a grin and dodged the playful swat aimed his way.  While Blair spoke with Daryl.  “Dial down your hearing, man.  You’ll find out soon enough.”  The others took the chance to talk.  Laughter and interesting vocal sound effects caught their attention periodically, but the others endeavored to ignore it.

 

888

 

Chapter 3:

 

A distant roll of thunder caught their attention and Simond noticed a worried frown cross the Ranger’s brow.  “Sounds like we might be in for a storm.”

 

But Jaxon shook his head, his pace increasing.  “That’s no ordinary storm.”

 

Myla and Rianna agreed.  “Magic.”

 

The storm passed as quickly as it started and they traveled through the woods for another candlemark before arriving at a small clearing that opened to a rock face.  Nearly invisible, a cleft in the rock showed where a cavern opening might be.  The sickly sweet stench of burnt flesh permeated the air.  Scorched grass and blackened trees ringed the area.  A large boulder had a chunk of rock blasted from it, the pieces having been flung across the clearing.  A nearly unidentifiable corpse lay in a twisted misshapen mass of blackened flesh.  Shards of rock peppered one side of the body.  It was vaguely reminiscent of some large insect, but patches of fur still clung in some places on the soft shell of the creature.

 

“Ew,” Rianna exclaimed, shuddering at the corpse.  “What is it?”

 

Jaxon shook his head.  “I’m not sure.  I’ve never seen anything like it.  It’s definitely not from here.”

 

Myla found a second corpse.  A fallen tree pinned down this one.  She noticed that the grass and vines had apparently wrapped themselves around the thing’s limbs.  A branch impaled the insect through the middle, reminding her of one of her tutor’s bug collections. Greenish-black ichor created a thick puddle beneath the body and tree.  Where the ichor landed, the grass and bark had blackened and curled up, reminiscent of acid burns.  “Don’t touch the blood. It looks highly acidic.”   She pointed at the evidence.

 

Joryn directed everyone’s attention towards the third body, that lay half in and half out of the tiny alcove in the rock face.  Burns riddled the body, but death had come from some sharp implement that had nearly sliced the thing in half.

 

“Your partner’s work?” Simond asked Jaxon.

 

The large Ranger nodded, eyes narrowed.  “But where is he?”

 

Cautiously, they entered the small cavern.  In one corner were the trash and remains, both of devoured animals as well as the glint and shine of gold and gems that the Trolls had left behind.  In another, was the remains of a mud and leaf nest.  Upon closer inspection, they found pieces of crushed shell and greenish-black ichor from what were once twelve eggs.

 

Myla and Simond both felt very uncomfortable in the cave.  The air seemed to press down heavily upon them.  The Paladin instinctively crossed himself, and the atmosphere lightened.  “Once we deal with the corpses, perhaps Myla and I can cleanse this place of the negative vibrations.”

 

888

 

Simon Banks broke off and shot a mock-exasperated look at Blair.  “I’ve been spending way too much time around you, Sandburg.  I’m even starting to sound like you.”

 

Blair merely smiled up at his Captain while the others tried unsuccessfully to swallow their snickers.

 

Daryl turned the conversation before Blair could add anything.  “So, what do you guys do?  It’s getting late, the sun is low in the sky. You’ve got another two and a half candlemarks before full dark.”

 

Henri spoke up.  “I say we make camp.  But not here, this place gives me the creeps.”  Rafe, Joel and Rhonda agreed.

 

“We can’t just leave these things there.  If we can gather them together, we can either bury or burn the bodies,” Jim remarked.

 

“Why don’t we just shove them in the cave and seal it?” Rafe asked.

 

Simon shook his head.  “Other animals can use the cave.  It just needs to be blessed.”

 

Daryl rolled his dice.  “Okay.  It takes you a little over a candlemark to gather the remains, burn them and clean up the clearing and the cavern.  He briefly paused to read a note Rafe handed him.  “Jim, roll two six-sided dice, please.”

 

“Ten.”

 

“You notice that the Troll treasure is gone.”

 

Rafe smiled at the group, hands spread innocently.

 

“It takes another half candlemark for the Paladin and Cleric to cleanse the evil from the area.”

 

Jim half raised his hand to get the Dungeon Master’s attention.  “I look for tracks that can tell me where my partner went.”

 

Daryl rolled some dice and nodded.  “There are some familiar tracks leading East.  You know of a small stream in that direction, it has some good places to camp and would be a reasonable area to start your search.”

 

“Okay. We start that way.”

 

888

 

Breaking through a strand of vines, the group found themselves standing beside a clear stream.  Jaxon pointed across it towards a cleared area.  “We can set up camp there.  I’ve used it before.  It’s easily defendable.  Captain, why don’t you and the others start camp while I look for my partner.”

 

The Paladin nodded agreement and started across the small stream.

 

“Need some help?” Myla asked.  “Those creatures looked pretty nasty. If your friend’s injured, I could help.”

 

“I’ll come, too,” Hawk offered.

 

Jaxon nodded.  “I appreciate it.  Though, I’m sure he’s fine.”

 

Hawk shrugged.  “Better safe than sorry, right?”

 

The three traveled downstream a bit.

 

Jaxon stopped and motioned towards the opposite bank.  “Thought I saw something.  Let’s check it out.”

 

Hawk yelped as a rock turned beneath his foot, nearly tumbling the Elven thief into the water.  He caught his balance, but not before water surged over the top of his boots, soaking his feet.  “Aw, man,” he muttered.  “Yuck.  Wet socks.”  He peered distractedly at the ground searching for signs as he tried to ignore the squishing dampness inside his boots.

 

Myla pointed to a spot near the edge of the stream.  The grass had been matted down and upon closer inspection, spots of blood and several small areas of blacked grass could be seen.  “Jaxon.  I think you’re friend may be nearby.”

 

“Balen?” The Ranger knelt beside the stream, looking for more tracks.  The snap of a twig and a soft thud behind them had the three whirl around, hands reflexively reaching for their weapons.

 

In a half crouch, left arm held protectively against his chest, stood a small figure.  Tangled auburn hair, the strands escaping their braid, obscured part of the face, but bright greenish-yellow eyes and pointed ear-tips were discernable through the partial curtain.  The sleeve and left side of the green tunic was nearly shredded and splattered with blood and black ichor.  Water dripped off the tips of his fingers, mute testimony that the Half-Elf had been trying to clean his wounds.  He straightened as the trio relaxed, taking a step forward after a wary look at the strangers.  His right hand came up and swiped ineffectually at the locks.  “Jaxon.”

 

“How bad?”  Jaxon motioned to the wound.

 

The Half-Elf shrugged carefully with one shoulder, stepping back over to the stream to resume cleansing.  “I stopped the poison.  The creatures’ blood is hard to wash off.  Can’t start healing until it’s off.”  A thin edge of pain ran through the words.

 

Myla instinctively dropped beside Balen, her hands out in supplication. “May I help?  I’m a Healer.”  She found herself caught in that greenish-yellow gaze and she kept still, aware that if she were not careful he’d bolt from her.  She wasn’t aware of the quiet introduction Jaxon performed, only of the sudden gleam of acceptance in Balen’s eyes.  “Be careful,” he warned.  “The blood burns whatever it touches.  I think I neutralized it, but it’s best to be wary.”

 

With some help from Myla and Jaxon, Balen gingerly peeled off the tunic, revealing deep, angry gouges along his side and back.  Hawk whistled at the sight, then dug into his pack for clean cloth to use.  The ichor proved stubborn to remove, taking nearly a half candlemark before Myla washed the last of it off.  Throughout, Balen was silent, sudden intakes of air the only indication of his pain.

 

It took two Clerical spells to stop the bleeding and heal all the gashes, but at last Myla was satisfied.  “A night of rest and you’ll be fine.”

 

Hawk donated one of his tunics to the weary Half-Elf.  “Thank you.” Balen accepted it shyly, relaxing a bit as the last of the pain bled away.

 

“What were those creatures?” Hawk asked as Balen pulled the tunic over his head.

 

“No idea.  Never seen, nor heard of such a thing before.  Whatever they were, they weren’t natural, even if they do mate.”  Balen went back to his tree and retrieved his sword and staff.

 

Jaxon frowned.  “Where’s your pack?”

 

The Half-Elf shrugged, belting his sword around his waist.  “Lost it. I wasn’t thinking too clearly after the battle.  Tossed it up in a tree after it snagged once too often.  I’ll look for it later.”

 

He swayed, and Hawk, being closest, reached out to steady him.  “Much later.  Look. Come to camp with us.  We’ll search for it when you’re better.”

 

Balen looked at Jaxon, who nodded.  “All right.”

 

The quartet made their way back upstream.  Jaxon told Balen about the others and their reasons for being in their woods.  Balen merely nodded, exhaustion creeping up on him.  Once at camp, Balen stayed awake long enough to be introduced to Rianna, Simond, Heron and Joryn - it would be good to know who was to be considered friend if he should wake suddenly in the middle of the night - before being escorted to a warm bedroll by his partner.

 

Both Simond, who held a deep interest in knowing what kind of man could intrigue his loner comrade, and Hawk, who survived by his wits and awareness of what was around him, noticed that Balen had carefully inhaled through both nose and mouth when introduced to each member of the company.  Almost as if tasting their scent in the air.  They were curious, but when Jaxon made no indication that this behavior was strange, they filed it away in the backs of their minds.

 

888

 

Everyone startled when a banging was heard on the door.  Blair rose from the floor in a fluid motion, casting a curious look toward Jim as he crossed the room.  Jim shrugged, but rose as well to follow his partner.  Blair checked the peephole.  “Who is it?”

 

Simon shook his head absently, surprised to see the younger man exhibit such caution in his own home.  ‘But, then, he has been a police officer for two years now, and with everything that’s happened to him, Jim must have been able to beat some self-preservation skills into that head of his.’  But still, it was saddening to see.

 

“Little Jeffrey’s Pizza.  I’ve got your extra large with cheese, onions and anchovies.”

 

Blair frowned, “We didn’t order any pizza.”

 

Jim flared his nostrils once, then nodded, confirming the ingredients of the pizza.  Out of the corner of his eye, Simon saw Rafe and H shudder dramatically over the combination.

 

“C’mon, man,” came the plaintive cry.  “The order was placed less than a half hour ago.  Thomas.  Apartment 307.”

 

“Just a second.”  Jim stepped forward while Blair scurried to the phone. Ellison gave the kid a slow once over, the subtle relaxation in Jim’s shoulders and neck muscles told Simon that the Sentinel had detected nothing out of the ordinary with his senses, either on the kid or on the pizza.

 

The kid blinked at the hard stare, then presented the box.  “Eight twenty-seven, please.”  When Jim made no move, the boy shifted nervously on his feet.  “I’m within the thirty minute time-limit, sir.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Jim shot a look at Blair who nodded slightly pointing to the phone he held to his ear.  “You’ve got the wrong apartment. Mr. Thomas lives in 207, not 307.

 

The kid’s watch beeped and his expression fell as a soft expletive escaped his lips.

 

“Hey, man,” Blair held the phone out to the delivery boy.  “I called Mr. Thomas.  He wants to talk to you.”

 

The kid glanced up through unruly bangs suspiciously but took the phone. “Hello?”  …  “Yes, sir.”  …  “No, sir.  The directions said 307.”  …  “No sir, I was on time.  You can ask the gentlemen here.”  A brilliant smile crossed his face.  “Really? Thanks.  Thanks a lot!”  He disconnected and returned the phone to Blair.  “He’s not going to count it against me.  Said it was his fault.  I won’t get in trouble with my boss.  Thanks!”  And with that, the kid dashed down the hall toward the stair well.

 

Chuckling, Jim closed and relocked the door, the two loft-mates returning to the circle.

 

“Does that happen often?” Megan indicated the whole scenario with a jerk of her head.

 

“Often enough.”  Blair sank onto his cushion in a half lotus.  “Mr. Thomas is notorious for mixing up numbers and we’ve gotten several take-out deliveries here by mistake.”

 

Jim snatched a handful of chips from the coffee table.  “Not to mention packages and other mail.  We’ve gotten into the habit of checking that he actually ordered something or if we’ve got a situation to deal with.”

 

The others looked concerned and Simon leaned forward, menacingly.  “Have there been any … situations?”

 

The two men exchanged startled glances.  “No, Simon,” Blair endeavored to explain as he put down his plate.  “What Jim means was to make sure we weren’t being pranked.  A couple of times we’ve received deliveries that no one in the area ordered.  Someone calling in an order and giving the wrong address on purpose in order to harass someone.  That’s all.”

 

Simon stared hard at his youngest detective.  Sandburg had a tendency to “obsfugate” in order to keep the peace – or keep out of trouble, but Simon could read the sincerity in Blair’s eyes and knew he was being told the truth.  “Just see to it that we’re notified if that should ever change.”

 

Both Blair and Jim nodded, the younger man leaning back against the sofa as he relaxed.

 

Rhonda went to the kitchen and grabbed a soda.  “Who wants a refill?”

 

Glasses were raised and filled.  Plates acquired more food.  Limbs were stretched and Simon took the opportunity that presented itself.  “I’m going out on the balcony to smoke.  Anyone care to join me?”

 

Rafe, H and Joel all accompanied their Captain out the sliding door.  Blair shook his head and tisked, but held his tongue, for which Simon was grateful.  “Already hard enough enjoying a cigar with Daryl always on me to quit.  I don’t need Sandburg’s comments, too.”

 

Joel chuckled, nudging his friend.  “Admit it.  You’d miss it if he suddenly stopped extolling the virtues of a healthy diet.”

 

Simon smiled, the smile widening as he listened to Daryl laugh as something Blair had said.  “Yeah, well, if you tell him, I’ll deny it.”

 

Finishing their cigars in mutual silence, the four men shook their heads over the snatches of conversation filtering through the glass door.  H jerked one thumb toward the indoor group.  “They’re either plotting their next moves without us, or Hairboy’s involved in another mini-lecture.”

 

Rhonda’s voice rang out clearly.  “We should stick together to look for your pack.”

 

“Plotting,” Simon, Rafe and Joel chorused.  They tucked away their stubs and re-entered the loft.  Jim wrinkled his nose at the cigar smoke that clung to their clothing but waved them over.

 

“Blair wants to go look for his pack by himself, but Rhonda thinks that since we’re together we should stick together.”

 

“Did Balen say he was going with us?” Megan asked.

 

Blair shook his head.  “He doesn’t know about the quest.  He’s only just been introduced to everyone.  Then he fell asleep.”  He looked to Daryl for confirmation.

 

“That’s right,” the Dungeon Master affirmed.  “Balen just joined the group.  So far, all you know is what you’ve seen, and the fact that Jaxon trusts him.”

 

“Goes a long way in my book,” Henri stated, taking a swig of soda.

 

“Mine, too,” Joel added.  “Simond trusts Jaxon, so I’ll trust Jaxon’s judgment that Balen is an okay guy.”

 

“Not me,” Rafe declared.  “Course, I’m paranoid by nature.  Word of mouth only takes you so far.  Your actions will tell more about you than anything else.  I’ll be watching you.”

 

Blair raised his glass and tipped a salute in Brian’s direction.  “May I not disappoint, O Suspicious One.”

 

Simon jotted a quick notation on the bottom of his character sheet then turned to his son.  “Where are we?”

 

“It’s early morning.  You and Myla are on watch.”

 

“Ah, gives us time to do our morning prayers,” Megan interjected.

 

“It’s been a peaceful night, though Balen, you had a few nightmares about the battle.  Nothing to wake you and they didn’t bother anyone else.”

 

“Thank God for small blessings, “Blair muttered.

 

Jim tugged on a lock of hair in reply.

 

“Balen wakes first.”

 

888

 

The Half-Elf went from a deep slumber to instant awareness, a habit bred by necessity.  Eyes still closed, he could sense the life forces of those closes to him.  Jaxon’s aura nearby, calm and in a natural sleep, told him he could relax.  There would have been no way the Ranger would have slept if he had not felt comfortable with these strangers.  Opening his eyes, he saw Jaxon sleeping between himself and the other two occupants in the tent.  Hawk lay curled with his back against the tent wall, one hand beneath his pillow – no doubt gripping some sort of weapon.  He had struck Balen as the cautious type.

 

Even as he watched, the Elf opened his eyes and two regarded each other silently, measuring the other up, and coming to a tentative agreement of friendship.

 

Heron lay sprawled out along the length of the tent, his immense girth taking a goodly amount of space.  Jaxon’s own bulk seemed to take up the rest.  “I guess it’s lucky we’re so much smaller than they or we’d have been pushed right out of the tent,” Balen noted.

 

Hawk grinned, a quick flash of white teeth in the semi-darkness.  “You should have seen it when Simond was in here.  I was glad to be on watch, let me tell you.  I’m surprised all the shifting about didn’t wake you.  It was like a Gnomish puzzle the way those three tried to organize themselves so they could sleep and not squish you.”

 

“Some of us are still trying to sleep, so take the conversation elsewhere,” came the sleepy rumble.

 

Balen and Hawk exchanged grins at the nearly simultaneous comment from both partners.  Friendship cemented.

 

Hawk patted the Barbarian’s shoulder and slipped out of the tent.  Balen took a moment longer, listening silently, nodding once or twice at a quietly voiced question, before flashing an impish grin and dancing away from a half-hearted swat.

 

Few clouds marred the sky.  The purplish-pink tint faded to a crystal azure as the sun crept over the horizon.

 

“Breakfast?” the Elven Mage held out a plate to the Half-elf with a smile.  “It’s rabbit.”

 

“Thank you, Rianna.”  He paused, focused on his plate.  “I wish to apologize for my less than coherent arrival last night.”

 

Simond passed over a wineskin filled with water.  “Understandable.  Those creatures didn’t look easy to defeat.”

 

Myla knelt and stirred the fire.  “Mage or Cleric?”  She gave him a significant look, whereas Simond, Joryn and Hawk exchanged glances. They’d all forgotten about the magical storm the other day.

 

Balen looked up from his plate, suddenly wary.  “Neither.”  He shifted on the log, clearly uncomfortable being the center of so many eyes. “I’m a Druid.  What brings you to Tulgee?”

 

Hawk spoke up, letting the change in subject slide without comment. “We’re on a quest.”  The Elf proceeded to tell Balen about the puzzle box, including the theory about the Mage and Clerical spells.

 

The Druid examined the box, breakfast forgotten.  A low sound of surprise emanated from his throat.  “There’s a Druidic spell on this.” But that wasn’t what caught his attention.  He pointed to the map along one side of the box.  “Is this where you are headed?”

 

“Yes,” Simond said.  “So you know of it?”

 

“It’s outside the Wood.  Five candlemarks on a swift pony.  I’ve been there before, but it’s been many years.  There was an earthquake over fifty years ago that destroyed most of the village.  The people left, but its been said that something still lives there.”

 

“What?”

 

The right shoulder rose and fell in a shrug.  “I didn’t stay long enough to find out.”

 

“We asked Jaxon to join us, but said he needed to speak to you about it.”

 

Balen shot a puzzled look at the Paladin.  “He is his own person.  He doesn’t need to ask permission from me about anything.”

 

Heron and Jaxon came out of the tent, picking up their own meals.  “I had hoped you’d consider coming with us.”

 

The Druid thought for a moment, but made no response.

 

“How far away do you think you left your pack?”

 

“I’m not entirely sure.  But, I didn’t do a lot of wandering before I reached the river.  I just have to backtrack.”

 

In the end, Jaxon, Hawk and Myla went with Balen.  As Myla said, “More eyes can make the search go faster.”

 

As the group followed the faint trail Jaxon commented, “Good thing you were exhausted or we’d never locate your gear.”

 

Heron asked, “What do you mean?”  He ducked under a low-hanging branch, the leaves brushing his face.

 

Myla paused, waiting patiently as Jaxon freed a lock of her hair from an overly amorous vine.  “Druids can move through underbrush without leaving any trace of their passage.”  She smiled at the Ranger in thanks.

 

“Only if you can concentrate,” Balen replied.  He frowned at the ground briefly, then veered off to the left.  “If I hadn’t been so tired there’d be no telling where I stashed my pack.”  He moved forward a few paces before stopping.  He turned a slow circle then pointed at a tree limb that had been bent back.  “It should be around here somewhere.  I remember getting snagged on that branch and tearing off my pack angrily.  So, it should be somewhere…” he trailed off, eyes sweeping the underbrush.

 

Hawk tapped the Druid on the shoulder and pointed upward at an unusual knot of vines high up in an Ash tree.  “Is that your pack or a weird type of nest?”

 

Balen took a look and smiled, placing a hand on the tree.  “It’s my pack.  Thank you, Hawk.”  He closed his eyes and with a brief shudder, the vines slowly unknotted, lowering themselves and their burden towards the ground.  Two squirrels nestled among the straps chittered angrily at the disruption until Balen stooped beside them and murmured something.  With satisfied chirps, they scampered off.

 

Checking on his pack, he nodded, as everything seemed in order.  Shouldering the pack, he glanced in the direction of the creatures’ niche.  “We should deal with the corpses before they attract any more unsavory guests.”

 

“Already taken care of,” Jaxon assured.  “The cave was even blessed to ensure it didn’t call to any other evil creatures.”

 

As they returned to the others, Balen fell into step beside Hawk. “It’ll take you another day and a half’s worth of travel to reach the ruins.  Any idea where you’re going afterward?”

 

“When we locate the piece we’re searching for, we hope it’ll tell us where to go next,” Hawk explained.

 

Balen nodded, and traveled on in silence, though Jaxon smiled, sure his friend’s natural sense of curiosity had him intrigued.

 

888

 

Blair handed Daryl a folded note.  Daryl nodded at its contents and asked, “Does anyone have anything they want to get done before you leave this camp?”

 

Rhonda nodded.  “I need to study for a few hours to have some spells ready, just in case.”

 

“Which ones?”

 

“Fireball. Detect Magic.  Dispel Magic and Heal.”

 

Daryl made a notation on a legal pad.  “Alright, you were doing that while the others were searching for the pack.  Dad, you and Megan already prayed for your spells this morning.  The camp’s packed and ready to go by the time the others return.  Okay, you have all been traveling for nearly two days, getting accustomed with one another. Having a Ranger and Druid with you ensures that you won’t lack from fresh game or water.  Although you offered, Jaxon and Balen prefer to hunt alone.  This being their Wood, you respect that.  You’ve noticed that they go in separate directions and Balen tends to leave his weapons behind.  He never fails to bring something back, so you all assume it’s because he’s a Druid.  There haven’t been any strange encounters.  Everything is relatively peaceful.”

 

“I want to know more about the plant life,” Rhonda mentioned.

 

“Me, too,” Megan added.  “Especially the herbs.  It might come in handy.”

 

Jim and Blair agree to have their characters share what information they have.

 

Daryl continued.  “The Woods begin to thin.  In less than a candlemark you’ll be out completely, then another five to the ruins.”

 

888


	2. ch. 4-6 The Tower and First Puzzle Piece

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the troup locate the first puzzle piece.

 

Chapter 4:

 

Balen leapt down from a low tree limb.  “We’ve reached the edge of Tulgee Wood.”

 

“Will you accompany us on our quest?” Simond asked.

 

“You’ll get a share in any treasure we find,” Joryn promised.

 

“I don’t have too much use for treasure.  But, as Jaxon could tell you, I love a good adventure.  I’ll travel a ways more with you. See where the path lies.”

 

As they set about to leave the Wood, Balen whispers something to Jaxon and fades off into the brush.

 

“Where’s he going?” Joryn asked.

 

“There are certain prayers and rituals he must perform before he may leave the Wood.  They are his protectorate, if you will, and he must ensure they remain safe in his absence.  I suggest we move on.  He’ll rejoin us as quickly as he is able.”

 

Hawk sidled up to the large Ranger, doubt in his eyes.  “Sure he’ll return?”

 

Jaxon nodded decisively.  “He’s a man of his word.”

 

 

The town had been completely overrun by undergrowth.  Vines grew over nearly every available surface.  Shrubs and trees had pushed their way through the cobblestones, making the streets impassable.  Large cracks ran through the building walls that still stood.  Not a single building remained untouched by either the earthquake or time itself. Birds made their nests in windows and chimneys.  Eyes flashed from dark corners.  The animal kingdom now ruled here.

 

“How on earth are we going to find a puzzle piece in all of this mess?” Rianna asked.

 

The others had no ready answer for her.

 

Balen found them as they entered what had once been the better part of town.  Turning a corner, they spied a tall tower.  It alone had remained untouched by the animals.  Strange, since a jagged crack ran the length of it, splitting the door in half, and giving easy access to the drier rooms within.  “Good a place as any to look for our elusive puzzle piece,” Hawk declared.

 

The Paladin noted a greasy feel to the air.  Myla and Rianna looked mildly uncomfortable as they approached the tower.  Balen lagged further and further behind until he came to a standstill a few yards from the front door.  “What is it?” Jaxon asked, his concern apparent.

 

“There’s something wrong about this place.  Makes my hackles rise.”  He pointed at the area around the tower.  “Nothing grows upon the walls.  No animals make there home here.  Why is that, when the rest of the town is not similarly affected?”

 

Rianna pointed to a nearly obliterated sigil over the lentil.  “This was the Mage tower.”  She raised a hand, patting the air as if feeling for something, a look of concentration upon her face.  She blinked once in surprise and turned to the others.  “It’s the backlash to a spell.  It must have been one colossal mistake if the effects are still apparent.  I think that whatever spell was cast, the result was the earthquake you mentioned.”

 

“How will it affect us?  I mean, are we all going to turn into pink rabbits if we’re here too long?”  Hawk shifted nervously from one foot to the other, his hand reflexively seeking a weapon.

 

Joryn moved away from the door, nearly bumping into Heron who was doing the same.

 

“We should be fine.  Just, try to avoid any spellcasting while we’re here.”

 

The eight enter the building – none seeing the sigil flash blue-white once before fading.

 

888

 

“Dun – dun – Duuuun!” Rafe intoned with a grin.

 

888

 

As they opened the door, for a split-second they saw the walls draped in magnificent tapestries than seemed to shiver in the stirred air.  As one, they fell in slow motion in a riot of colors before hitting the bare flagstone floor in a shower of dust.  Coughing, they waited for the dust to settle, each feeling a sense of loss at the unwitting destruction of the tapestries.

 

“Did we do that, or was it something that would have happened anyway?” Joryn’s hushed voice echoed off the now bare walls.  No one had an answer.

 

A plain wooden door was set across from the entrance and a flight of stairs on the right led upwards.  Along the left-hand wall a cabinet was attached.  

 

They edged cautiously into the room.  Whatever magic was invoked here was not one they wanted to turn upon themselves.

 

Simond signaled for half their number to move left and the other half to move right.

 

Jaxon preceded the Captain and the two women as they approached the staircase.

 

Hawk led the others in the other direction, intent upon the farthest door.

 

It was the silver handles that attracted the Barbarian’s attention. Nearly eye-level, the strange designs seemed to flow and move as he watched them, the silver a dramatic contrast to the dark wood they rested against.  Almost of their own volition, his hands raised upward to grasp the handles.  The faintest creak of old wood alerted Hawk.  The Thief whirled, aghast as the cabinets gaped open.  “No, you fool!  I haven’t checked them for traps!”

 

With an ominous groan, the flagstones below the cabinet fell away, sending three of their number sliding helplessly into the hole.  Hawk leapt away from the hole, landing flat on his belly, his legs dangling over the edge.  Scrambling for purchase that just wasn’t there, Joryn, Heron and Balen tumbled into the darkness.  Hawk pulled himself away just as the flagstones snapped back into place, nearly catching his foot in the process.  The cabinet doors slammed shut.

 

For a moment, the five were motionless in shock.  With a roar of anger, Jaxon strode over, intent on opening the trapdoor one way or another. Simond and Hawk rushed to restrain the Ranger.  “Slow down.  It won’t do them or us any good if we fall in on them.  What we need to do is get it open without falling in ourselves.”

 

“How?” Jaxon all but growled.

 

“We can’t use any spells.  It’s too dangerous without knowing what the backlash will do to them,” Rianna reminded.

 

“How about rope?” Simond suggested.  “The trap didn’t go off until the cabinet doors were opened.  We tie two lengths of rope to the handles, play out some slack, and pull them open from a distance. When the trapdoor opens, we can wedge a piton or something into the hinges to keep it open.”

 

“Sounds like a good plan.”

 

Jaxon reluctantly agreed, anxious to get to his partner.

 

Hawk volunteered to tie the ropes.  “I’ve got a light touch.  Less chance of setting it off prematurely.”

 

Ropes tied, the two women each took an end, standing almost against the far wall.  Jaxon and Simond held pitons in their hands, waiting for the right moment to prop the trap open.  Hawk scampered out of the way, nodding to the ladies to pull.

 

The cabinet doors opened at the tugs, but nothing else occurred.

 

 

Joryn groaned, trying to shift nearly three tons of Barbarian off him.  “Is everyone all right?”  He managed to extract himself before he got a reply.

 

“Ah, man.  My head is killing me.”  The low rumble was laced with pain. “And I think I broke my arm.”

 

Joryn looked around the room, his eyes taking in the infrared spectrum. Heron clutched his right arm close to his body, his face a mask of pain.  The Dwarf searched for the Druid.  “Balen?  Are you all right?”

 

Balen lay on the other side of the Barbarian, eyes closed tightly.  “Get. Off.  My.  Foot!”  With a start, Heron shifted off the smaller man.  Balen sat up, pulling his knee up to his chest, hands wrapping around his ankle with a low hiss.  Eyes opened.  The red-tinged gaze locked on Joryn’s and the Half-Elf mouthed, “It’s broken.”

 

Joryn briefly closed his eyes in dismay.  With their injuries, there was no way they were climbing out of the pit.  Frowning, the Dwarf studied the ceiling.  He remembered landing on an incline that slid them a few yards before dropping them into this pit.  He had no idea how negotiable the slide would be even if they could manage to get a rope up there.  “Do you see any way out of here?”

 

Heron chuckled.  “I’m not seeing much of anything here, but do any of you hear a kind of slithering noise?”  Sure enough, a sound like fingertips brushing against stone could be heard off to one side and it was getting louder.

 

“Joryn, you’d better get Heron against the wall behind you.”

 

“Why?” the Dwarf asked suspiciously, he didn’t like the edge to Balen’s voice.

 

“There’s this hole in the wall and it sounds like we’re about to have a visitor.”

 

Joryn grasped Heron’s good arm and helped the Barbarian toward the wall. “What about you?”

 

“Not much good like this.  Think I’ll slip into something more conductive for fighting.”

 

Before he could ask what was meant by such an odd statement, Joryn felt his eyes go wide as Balen’s heat signature began to shift.  It became both shorter and stockier.  Gold fire flashed from a set of eyes considerably closer to the ground than before.  “By the Stones!” was the feverent prayer.

 

“What?” Heron asked.  He’d heard the sound of bone clicking into place, but couldn’t see anything, and he didn’t like what his imagination was supplying.  His good hand clasped his warhammer tightly.

 

“Balen … Balen just…”

 

“Spit it out, man.  Balen just what?  Died?  Disappeared?  What?”  The Barbarian’s impatience and borderline panic apparent.

 

“Balen just turned into a huge wolf.”

 

“Is that all?”  To Joryn’s surprise, Heron sounded calmer.

 

“Is that all?  He just turned into a wolf!  How can you say, ‘Is that all?’”

 

Heron shrugged, eyes still uselessly scanning the pit they were in.  “Our clan Shaman frequently shape-shifted.  Scared the heebie-jeebies out of me the first time I saw it. But I’ve gotten used to it.”

 

Joryn warily watched the wolf pace back and forth in front of the hole, absently noting that the ankle seemed healed.  “He won’t turn on us, will he?”

 

“No. He’s still himself.  Only his shape is different.”

 

The wolf paused and nodded at the Dwarf, locking gazes with him, trying to convey a reassuring message.

 

Joryn blinked, then nodded in response.  The wolf turned sharply as the slithering got closer.  “I hope this works.”

 

8

 

“Are you sure this will work?”  Rianna asked nervously form her perch astride the cabinet.

 

“You’re the lightest of us.  If you can keep your balance, you can lean over and open the cabinet doors,” Hawk explained.  “My guess is that trap can recognize a sentient being versus an inanimate object trying to open the doors.  Once the trap is sprung, we can play a rope down there and try to find out what happened to the others.”

 

“Okay.” She still sounded unconvinced and unconsciously clutched at the rope wound around her waist.  Taking a deep breath, Rianna grasped hold of the cabinet doors and pulled them open.

 

Three things happened at that time.  The trapdoor opened.  Simond and Jaxon wedged their metal pitons into the corners of the hinged door, propping it open.  And the cabinet made a ninety-degree turn that sent Rianna toppling off and into the pit.  Her shriek cut off as the rope pulled taunt.  For an instant, Myla and Hawk clutched the rope, the Mage’s weight pulling on their arms.  Then the edge of the pit sliced through the rope and the Elf fell.

 

8

 

Rianna careened down a stone incline; the initial halt from the rope slowed her enough to keep her from serious harm.  The final drop left her breathless and disoriented.  A deep growling and a loud slithering sound reached her ears.  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Joryn wielding his battle-axe and Heron gripping his hammer.  Brushing her hair out of her face, she came nose to nose with a large wolf. Cooling blood covered the fur around its snout.  It’s lips were pulled back in a vicious snarl, showing large sharp teeth.  A long whip-like appendage extended around the wolf and reached out for her. In a panic, the last few words of the Fireball spell flowed from her lips, her hands out-turned before her.  Heat coalesced between her palms, the room brightening an instant before she released her spell.

 

The wolf gathered itself, leaping clear over her head as the Fireball sped past it into the tunnel beyond.  In the split second before it ignited, Rianna saw a nightmarish creature.  Tentacle-like arms reached forward, many of them slashed and bitten.  Amorphous, it’s main body mass shifted and flowed like oil, no recognizable head or vital organs.  The Fireball, normally only a handbreadth in diameter, grew to gigantic proportions, becoming nearly three feet in diameter before it struck the oily squid-like creature.  The momentum of her throw, coupled with the new strength of the spell, propelled the creature deeper into the tunnel before it exploded, the pieces burning brightly as the flames fed upon the oil.

 

The force of the blast threw the occupants of the pit against the farthest wall, where they huddled, stunned and singed, praying the ceiling wouldn’t collapse upon them.

 

888

 

“Holy…” Rafe trailed off as everyone stared at Rhonda.

 

The secretary looked around the circle with wide eyes.  “Um … Oops?”

 

888

 

Myla, Hawk, Jaxon and Simond could feel the ground shake from the force of the explosion.  A blast of hot air blew up at them from the pit. Simond recovered first, scrambling to the edge and shouting down. “Joryn.  Rianna.  Can anyone hear me?  Are you okay?”

 

The four held their breaths waiting for a response.  Simond was about to shout again when they heard a faint reply.  “Simond?”  It was Joryn.

 

“Is everyone all right?  What happened?”

 

“Rianna cast a spell.  It didn’t go as planned.  We’re going to need some help down here.”

 

A dim glow could be seen illuminating the steep incline of the pit trap.  “Could you climb up if we sent down a rope?”

 

“I don’t think that will be possible.  We’ll need someone down here to help us get set up if we’re going to be going out that way.”

 

Heron’s voice floated upward.  “We’ve got a tunnel down here.  It might lead to a way out.  Either way, though, we’re going to need a med. kit.”

 

Hawk, with Jaxon’s help, looped one end of the rope around the cabinet. “Hopefully, if we decide to come back up this way, we can use it to get out.”

 

Gingerly, using the minimal light to see and the sides of the incline to keep their balance, the four reached the top of the drop.  Below, Joryn and Heron looked up at them, faces blackened and singed.  Heron held his right arm awkwardly at his side while he gently patted Rianna’s face with his left hand.  The unconscious Elf had burn marks along her hands and forearms where she’d thrown them up to protect her face from the Fireball’s backlash.

 

“Where’s Balen?” Jaxon demanded.

 

Joryn pointed beside him where a large gray wolf lay.  Subconsciously, Simond and Hawk gripped their weapons only to have Jaxon and Myla lay calming hands on their arms.  Joryn continued.  “Blast threw them up against the wall pretty hard.  I think he hit his head.”

 

Studying the small space below him, Jaxon leapt down, landing lightly.  He crouched beside the wolf, running gentle fingers over singed fur and lacerated flesh.

 

“What happened?” Myla asked once she reached the floor of the pit, her own attention focused on the unconscious Mage.

 

Heron motioned for Joryn to explain.  “Heron broke his arm in the fall. Balen, his ankle.  We heard something approaching.  It didn’t sound friendly.  Balen turned into a wolf.”  Joryn shook his head, still amazed at the transformation.  “Balen and I were trying to keep the thing at bay.  It landed a few good blows on Balen.  Then Rianna fell in.  I guess she panicked.  She cast a Fireball.  Biggest damn thing I’d ever seen.  Nearly took out Balen, but he dodged out of the way in time.  She hit that thing dead on and it lit up brighter than a bunch of Trolls at a Midnight Bonfire.  It exploded and we were tossed back.  Rianna and Balen were closest to the blast and were thrown the hardest.”

 

While Joryn explained, Myla attempted a Heal spell.  When it didn’t work, she tried again.  A swear word echoed against the walls.  “My spell won’t work.  That backlash spell must have negated them.”

 

Heron frowned.  “Then how come the Mage’s spell worked too well?”

 

“Perhaps because it was a Mage spell.  The backlash must amplify them,” Simon hypothesized.  The Paladin attempted his own Heal spell again nothing happened.  “Guess the Clerical spells won’t work at all.”

 

Myla scowled, obviously unhappy that her goddess couldn’t help them here.  Muttering to herself, she opened her medicine pouch and pulled out a few herbs.  Snapping the stems, she waved them beneath Rianna’s nose.  The pungent scent woke the Mage with a start.  As Rianna slowly sat up, getting oriented, Myla waved the plants beneath Balen’s nose as well.  “Hope this works on wolves.”

 

With a snorting sneeze, the wolf came awake.  Shaking his head as if to clear it, he sat up, one paw rubbing at the side of his face.  A low sound that was half growl half whine emanated from the back of his throat.

 

“Easy, Balen,” Jaxon soothed.  “Everything’s fine.  You need to shift back now so we can take care of those wounds.”

 

After a moment, the wolf rose to its feet and began pacing in agitation, growling softly, his steps unsteady.  Hawk, still perched on the incline, asked, “Why isn’t he changing back?”

Balen locked gazes with Jaxon and the Ranger’s jaw tightened.  “He can’t.”

 

“What do you mean he can’t?”  Simond paused from where he was splinting Heron’s arm.

 

“Either the blow to the head is impairing his ability to shift back or it’s the backlash spell.  Whichever the case, he can’t revert back to True-Form.”

 

Both Rianna and Myla looked alarmed.  “Isn’t that dangerous?” Rianna asked.  “I mean, for Mages, the longer they stay in Other-Form, the harder it is for them to turn back.  The animal instinct starts to take over.”

 

Myla nodded her agreement.  “The spellcaster can lose himself.”

 

Jaxon shook his head, though the concern didn’t leave his eyes.  “Druids aren’t as affected by Other-Form as Cleric or Mages.  Also, Balen was brought up in his mother’s tribe.  She’s a Wild Elf.  Wolf Clan.  This isn’t really a spell for Balen, but an innate ability.”

 

The wolf, Balen, watched them from a spot by the tunnel.  His eye color hadn’t changed and the familiar fierce intelligence that shone there reassured them.

 

Hawk put their fears into words.  “We aren’t going to be able to go up the way we came.  Heron is too large to pull up and I don’t think anyone could carry Balen.”

 

Myla quickly mashed some herbs into a paste.  She let Balen sniff the concoction and agree to treatment before putting the salve into the wounds the tentacles had inflicted.  Another salve was made to deal with the superficial burns the quartet suffered.

 

As the others discussed their options – which weren’t many – Balen lay with his head on his paws, eyes half closed, the pain evident. Rianna stared at Balen, noticing that the wounds oozed despite the salves.  It is impossible to properly bandage a wolf.  The sides of the tunnel glistened wetly and an odious odor mixed unpleasantly with the scent of burning oil and she feared infection.  “I’ve got a Heal spell, but I’m not sure if I should use it.  Not after what happened with that Fireball.”  She spoke softly, directing her comment to the injured druid, but gaining the others’ attention.

 

Simond settled Heron’s sling more comfortably.  “Do you have a harmless spell you can use to test out the effects the backlash may have?”

 

The Mage frowned.  “I could use 'Detect Magic'.  I know what the perimeters of the spell usually are.”

 

“That would work,” Myla agreed.  “Even if it rebounds on her it won’t cause much damage.”

 

Syllables drifted in the air, disappearing from their memories as soon as they were heard.

 

Various items that her companions carried glowed or hummed within their containers, stating their magical natures.  The Mage was caught momentarily by the intense glow from Balen’s eyes.  She’d never used the spell around a shapeshifter before.  She wondered if they glowed while he was in True-Form as well.  Concentrating, she sensed the entrance to the pit trap – obviously magicked.  In the direction the tunnel ran, beyond her normal range, she sensed a large collection of magic – possibly the towers’ laboratory or the Mage’s library.  She could almost make out each individual magical item in the room.  The very air around her virtually reeked of magic – evidence of the backlash spell that was in effect.  She stopped the spell, swaying dizzily at the exertion.  “It’s amplifying all my spells.  I think it would be safe to use a Heal spell.  But I won’t if you don’t think it’s safe.”  She directed this last comment at Balen.

 

In response, the wolf padded forward and sat in front of her, the trust nearly palatable.

 

Once more, the words needed to complete a spell bounced off the walls. The lacerations cleared and closed, the burns faded and the wolf’s shaped morphed and changed until the Druid once more stood in True-Form, his clothing showing the effects of the battle.  Then the backlash took hold of the spell and flung it in an arch around the Mage.  Joryn and Heron’s burns disappeared and the Barbarian’s bones knitted back together.  The others in the party suddenly felt refreshed as if awakening from a healing sleep.  For a moment, everyone just stared at one another in shock.  Rianna’s eyes rolled back and she collapsed in a dead faint.  Balen caught her and eased her limp body to the floor.

 

888

 

“What the heck just happened?” Joel asked, his gaze swinging between Rhonda and Daryl.

 

Daryl shrugged with a smile on his face.  “Anyone going to find out?”

 

Megan raised her hand.  “I’ll check her.”

 

Dice were rolled.  “You recognize the symptoms of Energy Drain.”

 

“What’s that?” Jim asked.

 

Rhonda responded.  “All magic requires energy – usually from the caster. If you use up too much energy, your body rebels.  Guess that backlash took too much out of me.”

 

Henri winked at Blair, “Hey, Hairboy.  Commissioner Matthews might have something to say if he knew you were messing with his lady.”

 

“Are you kidding?  If she thought I was getting fresh with her, Rhonda would kick my butt.”  Good nature chuckling was heard all around.

 

Daryl motioned.  “Rhonda, roll your Constitution.”

 

“No!” She looked up, pouting.  “Twenty.  I died!”

 

888

 

Hands frantically searched packs for anything that could save their Mage. Too much energy had been expended and her body was shutting down. Heron wailed in anguish, the shards of a jar clutched in his hands, the red and yellow designs of a Healing potion prominently displayed. In desperation, Balen grasped either side of Rianna’s face in his hands and focused.  The near silent chant of a Heal Serious spell was absorbed into the stones as everyone held their breaths.  A sharp inhalation and sudden rush of color to parchment white skin showed the spell’s success, but the Mage didn’t wake.  Balen sat heavily, head bowed, his limbs trembling in reaction.  A curse as ancient as the language it was spoken in passed exhausted lips.

 

Jaxon went to Balen while Myla went to Rianna.  “Balen?”

 

“Felt like trudging through the swamps in waterlogged boots.  Is she all right?”

 

“She’s alive,” Myla affirmed.  “And out of immediate danger.  But I don’t know when she’ll wake.”

 

“Heron, could you climb while carrying her?” Simond asked, indicating the rope leading upward.

 

“We secure her to me, the weight won’t be a problem.”

 

“Balen? Can you make it?”

 

The Druid waved a hand.  “Yes.  Just give me a moment to get my breath back.”

 

“Then I suggest…” the Paladin was interrupted by the sound of metal screeching against stone.  With a snap, the light above disappeared and the rope dropped to the floor.

 

888

 

At their shocked looks, Daryl chuckled, an evil glint in his eyes.  He motioned for them to continue.

 

888

 

Jaxon pulled a torch from his pack and lit it from one of the fires still fitfully clinging to oily pieces of unidentifiable monster.

 

Simond sighed.  “Looks like the tunnel’s it.”

 

Balen reverted to wolf form, most of his exhaustion dissipating in the Form shift.

 

Simond and Hawk lit their lanterns off Jaxon’s torch, the fall having broken the ones carried in Heron and Joryn’s packs.

 

Jaxon went first, his enhanced senses letting him see further in the dim light.  Balen paced silently beside him, alert for danger.  Simond came next, lantern in left, sword in right.  Heron moved along, surprisingly quiet for one so large.  He carried the extra weight of Rianna’s unconscious body and Balen’s equipment with no visible strain, his warhammer swinging easily in his left hand.  Myla walked behind them, lantern in one hand, and a morning star in the other. Trailing behind, alert to danger, Hawk flowed from shadow to shadow, dagger and rapier ready.

 

888

 

“Okay, let’s see if I’ve got this straight,” Megan ticked the points off on her fingers.  “We’ve been dumped down a hole, several party members nearly died, our Mage is unconscious, and now we’re trooping down a dark unknown tunnel.  Right?”

 

Daryl suppressed a smile.  “Sounds about right.”

 

“Okay. Just wanted to make sure.”

 

“What’s the matter, Megan?  Scared?”  Brian grinned over the table at her.

 

She tossed a chip at him, bouncing it off his shoulder before he caught it.  “Things have a tendency to escalate in these kinds of games. And with this group…” she trailed off, giving the other detectives significant looks.

 

“I resent the implication that we are trouble magnets,” Henri intoned.

 

Simon snorted, “You mean you resemble that.”

 

“Actually, Captain,” Rafe interjected.  “Blair and Jim resemble that remark. We are merely sucked in by the undertow they create.”  He exchanged smirks with Brown.  Simultaneously, they were pelted with wadded napkins from said trouble magnets.

 

888

 

The tunnel ended abruptly at a plain wooden door.  A rusty metal handle was set on the left-hand side of the door and no locking mechanism was apparent.  The companions looked at one another in suspicion, Balen growling softly in his throat.  Hawk moved forward, studying the door and area immediately surrounding it.  He blinked, then snorted in disgust.  “This is a decoy.  See the edges?  They’re melded into the stone.  There’s no way to open it.  If you mess with the handle, it’ll set off some type of trap, but otherwise, the door’s bogus.”

 

Heron sighed heavily and shifted the equipment on his shoulder, the pack hitting the wall with a dull thump.  With a scraping noise, a section of the tunnel’s wall slid open revealing an ornate door.  The group tensed and when no monster leapt out at them, they studied the newly revealed door.

 

Joryn wrinkled his brow in confusion, his eyes brightening as he figured out the design on the door.  “That has got to be the ugliest portrait I’ve ever seen.”  At the raised brows, the Dwarf pointed out what he was talking about.  “It looks like someone engraved a picture, but mixed all the pieces up.”

 

“Sounds like a different version of the puzzle lock.  Put the puzzle together and the door opens,” Simond surmised.

 

After careful study and experimentation, they slid the last piece into place a candlemark later.  The hair on the backs of their necks rose as a swell of power flowed over them.  Instinctively, they backed up a step or two as the portrait rippled.  As if in slow motion, the engraving turned its head to stare at them, it’s gaze piercing.

 

“Is it supposed to do that?” Heron whispered, flinching when the stern gaze turned upon him before turning away in obvious dismissal.

 

“I don’t think so,” Simond shook his head, brow furrowed as he returned the angry gaze.

 

Weapons were fingered nervously as each party member was raked over.  In a deep voice, reminiscent of creaking tree branches, the portrait spoke.

 

_‘Long bright._

_Temporary night._

_Thought flight._

_Intention sight.’_

 

888

 

“S’what?” Jim looked over, confusion on his face.

 

Blair propped his elbow on a raised knee, grinning.  “Riddles.  Nicely done.  These’ll take some thinking.”

 

Daryl nodded in pleasure at the compliment.

 

“So, um … what were they again?” Joel asked.

 

“Long bright.  Temporary night.  Thought flight.  Intention sight.”  The burly Detective wrote them down and placed them on the table so that everyone could see.

 

“Ideas?” Simon asked, a frown on his face as he stared at the four innocuous seeming lines.

 

“Is that one an eclipse?” Megan asked pointing to ‘Temporary night’.

 

Daryl shrugged an enigmatic smile upon his lips.

 

“That one could be Summer Solstice.  You know, the longest day of the year?” Joel guessed, his pencil tapping ‘Long bright’.

 

“What is ‘Thought flight’?” Rafe asked.

 

“Forget 'Thought flight'.  What the heck does ‘Intention sight’ mean?” Brown retorted.

 

“Hold it.  Just wait a minute.”  Simon held his hands up, halting the conversation.  “Let’s do this logically.  If we keep hopping around we’ll never get anywhere.”

 

“What do you suggest, Simon?”  Blair tilted his head to look over at the tall Captain.

 

“Well, let’s start with the first one.  ‘Long bright.’  What are all the things this could possibly be?”  He picked up a pencil, intent on writing down their ideas.

 

“Joel suggested Summer Solstice,” Henri reminded.

 

“Long bright literally could mean a light that lasts a long time,” Megan said slowly.

 

“Isn’t there a spell that does that?” chorused Brian and Rhonda.

 

Megan quickly perused her character sheet.  “I’ve got ‘Continual Light’.”

 

Daryl intoned, “One.”  Grins flashed briefly before heads bent over the paper once more.

 

“’Temporary night’,” Simon read.

 

“Not an eclipse, so…” Megan pursed her lips in thought.

 

“Would that be a spell, too?” Jim craned his neck to read Blair’s character sheet.

 

“There’s Darkness,” Blair said.

 

Rhonda nodded, pointing to her own sheet.  “Yeah, I’ve got that one.”

 

“Two.” Then Daryl shook his finger at Rhonda.  “You’re unconscious.  No helping.”

“Oops. Sorry.”

 

“Think they’re all spells?”  Henri leaned forward to get a look at Blair’s sheet, Rafe doing the same to Rhonda’s.

 

Jim murmured aloud.  “Thought flight.  Thought flight.  Think fly.  I think I can fly.”  He grinned at a sudden memory and tapped Blair on his shoulder.  “Hey, Chief.  Isn’t that something your mom does?  Thinking real hard in order to fly?”

 

Blue eyes looked up blankly for a moment.  “Fly?”  Then remembrance flooded them.  “Oh, you mean levitation.”

 

“Yeah, that’s it.”

 

Everyone stared at their youngest detective.  “Your mom levitates?” Brian asked incredulously.

 

“Yeah,” Blair nodded.

 

“I don’t want to know,” Simon stated emphatically.  “I just don’t want to know.”

 

An impish look crossed his face.  “Maybe Naomi will show you how next time she visits, Simon.”

 

Daryl cleared his throat, interrupting whatever scathing reply his father may have had in mind.  “Three.”

 

Henri’s jaw dropped.  “You’re kidding me.”  He reached over and nudged Blair with his foot.  “Hey, Hairboy.  Isn’t it kind of weird that even when she’s not here your mom finds a way to help us solve stuff?”

 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Blair waved the older man with a roll of his eyes. “Any ideas for the last one?”

 

The group was silent as they contemplated the meaning of the last section of the riddle.  “’Intention sight’,” Brown drawled out. “Sight implies something you see or know.  Agreed?”

 

“Sounds right,” Daryl acknowledged.

 

“So what’s intention mean?”

 

“Ours or someone else’s?” Megan queried.

 

“What’s another meaning for intention?” Rafe asked.

 

“Motive,” Joel stated.

 

“Alright. So a motive is what a person will do or how they will act,” Jim theorized.  “Are there any spells that check for that?”

 

Rhonda shifted in her seat, obviously wanting to say something but holding back.  It was Brian who blurted, “There’s a ‘Know Alignment’ spell.”

 

“Four.”

 

888

 

The portrait sniffed, giving a credible air of reluctant concession. With a last glare it returned to a more solid form.  With a soft click, the door swung inward.  Exchanging looks, the party slipped through the opening, each unwilling to brush against the carving even in the slightest.  Once the last person had cleared the doorway, it closed behind them.  The sound of the latch catching was nearly drowned out by the sound of wood scraping against wood as the puzzle lock reset itself.

 

A short hallway extended for a few yards before opening up to a large room.  The walls were lined with shelves and cabinets, counters and ledges.  Five long sturdy tables stood in the center of the room.  A small alcove on the right hand side held two rough, ancient looking pallets.  Another door sat recessed in the wall to the left.  Cracks lined the walls, reaching upwards and criss-crossing the ceiling. Several chunks of masonry had separated from the ceiling, crushing two of the tables and several bookshelves beneath their weight.

 

The remains of a protection circle could be seen in the very center of the room.  Under once such piece of masonry was a skeleton still dressed in the remnants of a robe.  Archaic designs visible on what was left of the fabric could just be made out.  Simond automatically crossed himself.  “Poor soul.”

 

Myla corrected.  “Poor souls.”  Opposite the skeleton, still within the protective circle was a charred spot on the floor and the residue of greasy ashes.

 

The Barbarian gently lay Rianna down on one of the pallets, ignoring the dust that rose.  Deciding to check the only other exit, he crossed the room, avoiding the rubble.  Passing Simond and Myla, Heron – ignorant of the purpose behind the marks on the floor – stepped over the chalked circle.  His body stiffened, an intense feeling of cold sweeping over him.  He heard Balen’s snarl as if from a great distance.

 

888

 

Chapter 5:

 

“I jump out of the circle,” Henri stated.

 

“You can’t,” Daryl shook his head.

 

“What do you mean I can’t?”

 

“Well. You aren’t quite yourself at the moment.”

 

“Are you saying I’m possessed?” his voice rose.

 

“What did you think that grease spot was?”

 

“Shit.”

 

“Watch your mouth, Detective.”

 

“Sorry, Captain.”

 

“Serves you right,” Rhonda sniffed.  “Lay me down in dusty straw, will you?”

 

Daryl handed Brown a new character sheet.

 

He looked at it suspiciously.  “What’s this?”

 

“You’re possessed.  So, you gotta play the new character.”

 

Henri scanned the sheet, paling.  “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

 

“Nope,” Daryl smirked at the older man.

 

“I can’t do this!” came the protest.

 

“Just think of it as the ultimate undercover roll.”  The Dungeon Master was obviously loving this.

 

“Can’t Hairboy do this?  He’d be much better at this than me.”  Blair raised a brow.

 

“Sorry. Balen’s not possessed.  You are.”

 

“But. But.”  He looked around the circle for some sort of escape.  The group all stared at him expectantly.  Deflating, Henri gave a sigh that seemed to come from his toes.  “Fine.  But I want it on record that I strongly protest against this.”

 

“Noted.” Daryl watched the uncomfortable look that crossed Brown’s face and rose from his chair.  “Let me give you a few pointers.”  He headed for the kitchen, Brown trailing behind.

 

The murmur of whispered voices drifted over to the group.  Speculative glances were exchanged.  Blair, without even turning his head, nudged Jim’s knee and shook his head at his partner.  Jim sighed and nodded back in capitulation, tugging on a curl in acknowledgment.  A deep chuckle of delight heralded Brown’s acceptance of the new character and the two exited the kitchen to rejoin the circle.

 

888

 

Heron’s stiff posture relaxed and he blinked at Simond and Myla with wide startled eyes.  “Heron?  Are you all right?” the Paladin frowned, worried.

 

The Barbarian ignored the question, his gaze drifting over the others in the room.  Jaxon and Joryn received speculative glances, the wolf guarding the unconscious Mage garnered a raised brow, but it was Hawk on who the gaze locked.

 

“Hi.” The familiar deep rumble was replaced by a light alto tone.

 

“Heron?” Hawk took a step forward, a frown marring his brow.

 

“My name’s Molly.  What’s yours?”   The Barbarian cocked his head to one side and a shy smile appeared on his lips.

 

888

 

“Ewww,” Rafe wrinkled his nose.  “You’re a girl.”

 

“Yeah, and boy does Molly think you’re cute.”  Henri flashed an evil grin.

 

“Ewww.”

 

The others burst into laughter at the look on Brian’s face.

 

Blair suddenly locked gazes with Henri.  “Hey, wait a minute.  What was that crack about me doing a better job?”

 

“Um…” Brown stuttered as he tried to verbally retrace his steps.

 

“Just you wait, H.  I’m not a Druid for nothing.”

 

“Yikes! Help!.”

 

888

 

Hawk blinked, startled.  “Um.  It’s me.  Hawk.”  He mouthed, ‘Molly?’ at the others.

 

“Hawk. You’re cute.”  A giggle emanated from Heron’s mouth, a light sound totally incongruous with the burly body.

 

The Elf blanched, shooting a panicked look at Simond and Myla.  Balen made a huffing noise that sounded suspiciously like a laugh and settled down beside Rianna, relaxed but alert to possible danger.

 

“Heron’s been possessed,” Myla sounded amazed.

 

“Well, how do we unpossess him?” Hawk muttered out the corner of his mouth, presenting a smile to what used to be his best friend. 

 

Simond and Myla shrugged helplessly, their exorcist spells useless while the backlash was in effect.

 

“I’ve been here for fifty years.  Do you know how boring that can be? Nothing to do.  No one to talk to.  I thought I’d go mad.”  Heron – Molly looked at Hawk earnestly.

 

“What happened, uh, Molly?” Hawk ventured to ask at an encouraging gesture from Myla.

 

With the same tone of righteous annoyance every teenager anywhere can express when talking about his or her respective authority figures, Molly sighed.  "Master Galer attempted a spell too high for him.”  Her face softened, becoming contemplative.  “He started casting and it tried to get away from him.”  She paused, a frown marring the Barbarian’s brow.  “I remember the room started to shake and walls started cracking.”  Her eyes followed the damage up towards the ceiling.  “The flagstone tiles fell, smashing into the tables and stuff.”  Her gaze fell on the skeleton and tears welled up on dark eyes.  “A large section landed on Master Galer and he fell beneath it.  He didn’t even have time to scream.”  Her voice took on a faraway quality as the dead apprentice remembered her last moments.  “There was a bright flash of light.  I threw my arms up over my eyes.   A loud crash hurt my ears and I felt an intense heat wash over me.”  She shuddered, the large limbs trembling in horror. “The next thing I know, I’m stuck inside the circle.  I’ve tried everything I can think of, but I can’t get out.”  She blinked, refocusing her gaze on Hawk.  Her tone took on a lilting quality.  “Well, that’s my story.  What brings you here?”

 

Hawk blinked at the sudden shift, goose bumps raising along his arms at what he felt was a demonstration of instability.  The Elf relaxed when he detected no change in Balen’s demeanor toward the spirit. If the being meant any harm, surely the Druid, more attuned to what was natural and what was not, would react.  “We’re looking for a piece of a puzzle box we found.  The map on its side led us here.”

 

The Barbarian blinked and his mouth opened before snapping shut.  A calculating look entered his eyes and the party unconsciously tensed. “I’ll tell you where it is if you do something for me.”

 

“And what might that be?” Simond asked, his voice a dark rumble.

 

Molly kept her eyes upon Hawk, the expression serious.  “Free me.”

 

“Uh,” Hawk rocked on the balls of his feet.  “I think Heron might object to that.”

 

Molly waved a hand dismissively, annoyance crossing Heron’s features.  “I don’t mean that.  I mean, yeah, it’s incredible to be able to feel and smell and taste again after so many years.  But I don’t want this life.  I mean, in case you haven’t noticed, we’re not exactly compatible here.”  She waved a hand to indicate the Barbarian’s 7’2” undoubtedly masculine frame.  “Besides,” indescribable sadness flashed behind dark eyes.  “Everyone I knew and loved are dead or so old that I wouldn’t have anything in common with them anymore.  She paused, shaking the mood off.  “Just … release me.”

 

Myla shook her head.  “How?  This backlash spell won’t let us use any Clerical Spells.  We can’t dismiss you.”

 

“What about the Druid or the Mage over there?”  Molly pointed toward the alcove.  The others looked surprised, but Balen merely shook his shaggy head and eloquently shrugged his shoulders.  Molly nodded in understanding.  “All right.  What about the Mage?  Surely she either has the spell or the power to free me.”

 

“The last spell she cast nearly killed her,” Myla answered.  “I don’t know what she still has available spell-wise and I don’t know if another attempt won’t kill her.”

 

Molly awkwardly settled long limbs into a lotus position on the floor of the circle.  For the first time, she physically directed her attention to someone other than Hawk, much to the Elf’s relief. “I’ve given that a lot of thought.”  A self-mocking smile quirked one corner of the Barbarian’s mouth.  “Not that I had anything else to do.  I figure a Dispel Magic will take care of the backlash and I’ll be able to move on once the protective circle is dispelled.”  She nodded her head in Rianna’s direction.  “Then you’ll be able to use any Clerical spells necessary if the drain is too much for her.  I figure, if she doesn’t already have it memorized, then she can study it once she wakes.”

 

Simond felt it necessary to point out the potential flaw in that idea. “What if she doesn’t have the spell?”

 

“Most Mages do.  It’s usually the only sure way to negate a spell gone wrong.”  She glanced at her Master’s remains.  “Well, if you have time to recite it.  If she doesn’t know it yet, she can get it out of my Master’s book of spells in that center cabinet.”  She pointed at the small cabinet above the sleeping alcove.  “It’s his spare spell book.  His working book blew up when the backlash hit.”  She gestured toward the pieces of scorched parchment that littered the inside of the circle.  A flash of annoyance crossed Heron’s face.  “Otherwise, I would have gotten myself out of this mess along time ago.”

 

888

 

“Can I wake up now?” Rhonda asked.  “I want to check out that spell book.”

 

“You’re still asleep.  You don’t know about it yet,” Daryl reminded. “Roll your Constitution.”

 

“Twelve.”

 

“Okay, you can wake in another candlemark.”

 

888

 

The band broke open their rations, drinking water and munching on bread. Molly seemed delighted to be eating again and she chatted amiably with the others, all the while excusing her poor manners of talking with her mouth full.  Balen, having reverted to True-Form, was ready with a water skin as Rianna slowly woke.  He helped her sit up.  The Mage took one look at Heron sitting inside the protection circle and nearly choked on a mouthful of water.  “What, by all that is holy, is he doing in there?”

 

“He’s currently being possessed by the spirit of the Mage’s apprentice,” Joryn replied dryly.

 

“Hi,” Molly waved. 

A bit confused and still exhausted from the Energy Drain, Rianna weakly waved back.  “So, no offense, but how do we get Heron dispossessed?”

 

“Got a Dispel Magic?” Molly asked brightly.

 

“Yeeeess,” Rianna warily admitted.

 

“Good. Use it.  That’ll get rid of the backlash, dismiss this circle, and I can finally move on.”

 

The Mage narrowed her eyes.  “How do I know you won’t attempt to stay after the spell’s been annulled?  How can we be sure you’re what you say you are?  You could easily be some kind of demon trying to trick us into releasing it.”

 

“You’ll just have to trust me.”  At Rianna’s raised brow, Molly huffed a breath.  “Fine.  Then trust your Druid.”  She pointed at Balen.

 

The Half-Elf met Rianna’s eyes steadily.  “It’s a human spirit.”

 

“How do you know?” she asked softly.

 

“The feeling is right.  She doesn’t have the same feeling that a demon does.”

 

“And you’ve had experience in this matter?” Rianna pressed, trying to make sure.

 

A brief flash of some dark emotion crossed the Druid’s face and he nodded mutely.

 

888

 

Blair looked over at Daryl.  “Is that okay or did I overstep game boundaries?”

 

Daryl thought a moment.  “No, that sounds plausible.  Druids would be able to sense natural versus unnatural and a Demon is definitely unnatural.  And your character is high enough that an encounter with the demonic isn’t that unusual.”

 

888

 

Rianna rose to her feet, accepting Balen’s help.  She stepped over to the circle, studying it.  “What exactly was your Master trying to do?”

 

“He’d heard that are a multiple of universes and dimensions and he’d discovered a spell that would allow the caster to open a hole into one of these dimensions and be able to retrieve something through it.”

 

“Then why, by all that’s holy, did he have the two of you INSIDE the circle?”

 

“Master Galen was very kind.  But he wasn’t always very intelligent.  My best guess, and after fifty years I’ve done a lot of guessing, is that he misread the instructions placing us inside instead of outside the circle.  The thing was in a foreign language and it’s completely possible he mistranslated.  That might explain the strength of the backlash, too.  The energy had no place to go initially, it just kept rolling around inside the circle, getting stronger and stronger until it spilled over.”

 

“Why didn’t you say something?  Tell him he was wrong?” Myla asked, her expression one of aghast confusion.

 

“Several reasons.  One, I was the apprentice, he was the master.  One does not correct the Master.  Two, I didn’t know better.  I’d only been an apprentice for a few months.  I knew a total of five cantrips and that’s it.  I had tremendous magical potential, so he sometimes used me as a power source, but I had little training or knowledge of the magical arts.  And three, I was extremely shy.  Even if I’d known he was wrong, I probably wouldn’t have had the courage to tell him so.  It was something he was trying to help me overcome, but we hadn’t made such progress.”  She paused, a wry expression on the Barbarian’s face.  “Fifty years of loneliness can break even the shyest person out of their shell.”  Molly twined and untwined Heron’s thick fingers, gaze locked on the process as if fascinated. The fingers stilled and she looked up, her gaze bleak.  “I’m tired.  I don’t want to be here alone any more and I refuse to take this man’s life.”  She pointed again at the cupboard recessed in the wall.  “That puzzle piece you were talking about is on one of the shelves along with Master Galen’s spellbook, a couple of scrolls and some potions.  Just … let me go.  Please?”

 

Rianna nodded at the heartfelt plea.  Standing tall, she held her hand palm downward, parallel to the floor, opposite Heron’s possessed form. Eyes unfocused, she began to recite the spell that, hopefully, would return this place back to normal.

 

888

 

The roll of dice was the only sound as eight adults waited impatiently for the results.

 

888

 

With a silent clap of thunder, the oppressive feel to the air lifted.  The magic users unconsciously sighed in relief.  Molly smiled in pure joy.  “Thank you.”  Eyes closed and Heron’s body crumpled into a heap as the spirit fled her magical prison.

 

Rianna swayed on her feet, one hand on her temple.  “I think, I need to sit down now.”  Myla and Simond each grasped an elbow and helped the unsteady Elf.

 

Hawk, Balen and Joryn quickly dragged Heron’s unconscious from out of the circle.  “Just to be on the safe side,” the Thief said.

 

Jaxon, in the meantime, examined the cabinets of the cabinet.  “There are five bottles here.  They’re labeled.  Two Healing potions, one Levitation, one Feather Fall, and one Invisibility.”

 

“Do you see anything we can use to wrap them in?” Simond joined Jaxon, leaving the recovering Mage with the Cleric.

 

Joryn searched the rest of the room, coming up with some cloth from a burlap bag.  “Good enough?”

 

“Should be.”

 

Balen waved some herbs underneath the Barbarian's nose, still too tired from his previous attempt to Heal again.  Heron woke slowly, eyes blinking in confusion.  “What happened?”

 

“You were possessed,” the Druid stated simply.

 

Hawk jumped in, eyes sparkling with mischief.  “But on the plus side, the two of us are this close to being engaged.”  He started to laugh at the horrified expression that crossed his friend’s face.

 

Balen shook his head, not understanding the humor.

 

888

 

Henri batted Brain on the shoulder.  “Not funny.”

 

“Just getting you back for the flirting,” Rafe shot back.

 

“I was possessed.  I couldn’t help it.”

 

“And I’m an Elven Thief with a wicked sense of humor.  I couldn’t help it either.”

 

“Does he look like he’s going to be fine?” Blair asked, pointing at H.

 

Daryl rolled some dice.  “Yup.  Completely back to normal.”

 

“Oh. What a shame,” came the murmur. The accompanied smile took the sting out of the comment.  “I check out that other door.”

 

“It appears to be a normal oak door with iron hinges.  The inside bolt is closed, but there are no other locking mechanisms in place.  Do you open it?”

 

“No. There’s no telling if the Mage spelled it so as not to be disturbed.  How is Rianna?”

 

“She’s standing again and looks fine.  Jaxon, Simond and Joryn are examining the items from the cabinet.”

 

“Oh. Okay.”  Blair alternately bounced and rocked on his cushion as he stared at the others.

 

“What are you doing?” Megan asked, shaking her head in confusion.

 

“Pacing.”

 

“Pacing?”

 

“Pacing,” he affirmed.

 

“Why?”

 

Blair shrugged.  “Tense moment is over, everyone is relatively unharmed, and I’m in an enclosed building, possibly underground, with man-hewn stone and mortar around.”

 

“Getting antsy?” Jim asked, sympathetically.

 

“Yup.”

 

“Then I suggest that we move on.” Simon added.

 

888

 

“Found it.”  Jaxon retrieved a small flat piece of wood out of the cabinet.  It was the length of his hand and about two inches wide, though it was scarcely the thickness of a fingernail.  Along one side was an intricate serpentine design.  Joryn pulled out the puzzle box and aligned the new piece with one of the openings.  It fit neatly with a soft **snick**. Before their eyes, the map along the side rippled and changed, no longer showing the forest they were currently within, but a series of foothills a few days northward that led to the Fangmore Mountains.  A tiny mark denoted the location of the next puzzle piece.

 

888

 

Chapter 6:

 

Rafe handed the Dungeon Master a folded note.

 

Daryl tucked a foot beneath him as he studied the seven other adults in the room.  “You have no other difficulties getting out of the tower. You also don’t find anything of particular value other than what was in the cabinet.  Everything else is pretty much rusted or moth-eaten beyond repair.  Hawk, you find some hilts, scabbards, and iron rings where it was apparent that jewels once resided, but now they’re empty sockets.  As you leave the tower, those that are paying attention notice that birds have landed atop the turrets and several squirrels and lizards are climbing the ivy that covers the tower's outer wall.  Nature has come in to claim the space.  It is now time for you to make a decision.  Do you abandon this quest as Fool’s Folly?  Or do you continue along this path laid before you?”

 

Brian speaks up.  “I’m going for it.  The box was entrusted to me.  My friend obviously thought I might be able to solve the thing.  I want to see exactly where it will lead me.”

 

“For the adventure of it?” Joel asked, his eyes gleaming knowingly.

 

Rafe shuddered dramatically.  “Dear me, no.  For the profit.  Anything this well guarded has got to be worth something.”

 

“Spoken like a true Thief,” Rhonda raised her glass in mock salute.

 

Rafe gave a half-bow from his chair.  “Thank you.”

 

“Heron would go just to keep Hawk out of any serious trouble.”

 

“Out of serious trouble?  And who, may I ask, not only triggered a trap that nearly killed half our party but also managed to get himself possessed to boot?”

 

Henri waved a hand negligently.  “Minor inconveniences.  Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

 

“I’d hate to see what he considers a major inconvenience,” Megan muttered.  The rest nodded.

 

“Well, regardless of all that, this is getting interesting.  I want to know what happens next.”

 

“I’ll be staying.  This can be the Quest that is required for my knighthood,” Simon declared.  “And I’ll admit, I’m enjoying this.  You’re a gifted storyteller, Daryl.”  The young man flushed with pleasure as the others also echoed the sentiment.

 

“I’m not sure about Rhonda, but I want to know what those three spells are.  Mixing disciplines is just not done.  How’d they do that and why?”  Megan’s eyes were alight with interest.

 

Rhonda nodded her agreement.  “I could see Rianna going along on that principle.  Discovering how another type of magic works would interest her.”

 

Decided gazes landed on the three undecided.  Joel shrugged expansively.  “In for a dollar, in for a pound.  It’s not like my character has anything else to do with his time.”

 

“Daryl’s got a good thing going here.  I don’t want to be the one to stop it,” Jim stated.  “Jaxon’ll temporarily realign himself with some old battle buddies.”

 

Blair looked up to see all eyes on him and he spread his arms out in supplication.  “Heaven forbid that we break up the group.  Besides, do you honestly think I’d let you have all the fun?”  He looked at Daryl, his expression serious.  “Course, we’re going to have to think of a good reason Balen decides to leave his forest to go along with these near-strangers.  I might want to play, but the Druid might not.”

 

“Humn, good point.  Let me thing on that a bit.  We’ll have things settled one way or the other before the group breaks camp the next morning.”

 

“Speaking of breaks,” Joel rose stiffly from the couch.  “If you’ll excuse me.”  The Ex-Bomb Squad Captain’s departure triggered a general need to move about and stretch the kinks out.

 

“Only one bathroom, Jim?” Brian half-groused.  “What were you thinking?”

 

“Obviously, I wasn’t.  I am deeply apologetic.”  Jim patted the younger man’s shoulder as he headed for the kitchen.  Anyone for a glass of water?”

 

At a muffled moan, Blair grinned, “You’re a cruel man, Jim.  I knew there was I reason I liked you.”

 

“And all this time I thought it was because I knew how to keep a kosher kitchen,” Jim deadpanned, rummaging in the cupboards for chips.

 

“That helps.  That definitely helps.”  Blair ducked the swat aimed at his head and deftly snagged the soda bottle to begin replenishing cups.

 

“Blair,” the Dungeon Master drew the Detective to one side.  “Do you have any suggestion for making it easier for Balen to remain with the group?”

 

“Well, he hasn’t been around people other than Jaxon for ages.  He’d be interested to see how they interact with one another.”

 

“Ever the anthropologist, huh, Blair?”

 

“What can I say, people fascinate me, always have, always will.  Naomi swears I’ve been observing how people act and react from the day I was born.  Anyway,” he moved back on topic.  “Interest could be a factor.  If Jaxon asked him to come along, he would go out of loyalty to his friend.  I mean, he’s already outside his area, continuing wouldn’t be much of a stretch.  All the proper Druidic protocol has already been performed.  Also, he’s curious as to the nature of the box.  What does it contain for such drastic measures to have been taken?”  Blair frowned, shaking his head slightly.  “But, I’m not sure if that’s enough to compel him to join them.  He’s not particularly concerned about the box’s contents, even the fact that the box has a Druid spell on it doesn’t really interest him.”

 

Daryl raised a brow.  “Him or you?”

 

“Him,” was the firm response.  “I, personally, am dying to know what’s going on.  But Balen really isn’t the type to be interested in material items.”

 

“Then have him go for the intrinsic value of being with the group.  You can play it that you’re nervous outside your territory, but it’s balanced by your Elven or Human sense of adventure.”

 

Blair nodded, a grin slipping into place.  “It could work.”  He started chuckling.  “Wolves are pack animals, living in their clans.  I wonder what your dad will think when he finds out he’s been adopted.”

 

888

 

“Simond,” Jaxon slung his pack over a shoulder and strode over to where the Paladin was breaking down a tent.  “Balen’s volunteering to scout out the fastest way through the forest.  Anything you want him to keep an eye out for?”

 

“According to the map, we’ll be moving away from any rivers and lakes.  My main concern is having enough water for the party and horses.”

 

“He has a few spells – fresh food and water shouldn’t be a problem.”

 

“Then, the easiest path he can manage to find.  I’m not sure how long it’s been since some of our group has had to do any riding of any significant length.  No need in testing anyone’s stamina this early in the journey.  Though with the skills I’ve seen so far, we shouldn’t have any trouble getting to our next destination.”

 

888

 

A groan emanated from somewhere within the circle.  “Oh, no!”

 

“What?” Simon asked, exasperated in having the flow of the story interrupted.

 

“Now you’ve done it, sir.”  Rhonda shook her head pityingly.

 

“Did what?”

 

“Jinxed us.”  Several members of Major Crimes spoke this in unison.

 

“And how, pray tell, did I do that?” Simon chewed on the end of his cigar, perplexed and a bit annoyed by his people’s reactions.

 

“You said we shouldn’t have any trouble.  Never tempt the fates like that, Simon.  Especially when they’re sitting right next to you.” Blair pointed at Daryl.

 

Simon stared at his son in growing horror as an unholy look of glee crossed the young Dungeon Master’s features.  A low chuckle escaped and the group shivered at the sound.

 

888

 

The group was plagued by a variety of annoyances and difficulties as they traveled north.  The women woke one night to find their tent had accidentally been staked over a red ant hill.  Shrill screams and not so muffled curses woke the camp as the two leapt out of their tent, hitting and slapping at the ants.  Joryn maneuvered the two a few yards away where a nearby spring-fed pool leant relief from the biting insects but they were uncomfortable and out of sorts until a Heal spell could be performed.  Mid-afternoon the next day, Heron’s horse threw a shoe nearly coming up lame.  Joryn spent a good two candlemarks checking and correcting possible shoe/hoof problems on the others' horses.  That evening, while Rianna searched for firewood, she ducked a low branch and was attacked by a rabid squirrel.

 

888

 

“Rabid squirrel?”

 

“Yup. Looks like you got bit, too.”

 

“Will a Heal spell work on that?”

 

“The bite, yes.  But not the rabies.  That’s a Disease.”

 

“It’s alright, Rhonda.  I can take care of it.”

 

“Thank you, Simon.”

 

888

 

It rained that night.  A cold, wet, drizzling rain that slanted sideways and seemed determined to creep into every crevice in the tents. Balen volunteered for the first watch and he stood silent sentry, impervious to the rain.

 

888

 

“Roll your Perception,” Daryl commanded.

 

“Three.”

 

“From the east, over the rain you can just make out a snuffling noise.  A dark shape shambles into camp heading for one of the tents.”

 

888

 

The Druid’s piercing gaze focused on the approaching form.  Moving silently, sword drawn but hidden beneath his cloak so the telltale shape would go unnoticed, he positioned himself between the intruder and its intended target.  Ready, but unwilling to draw steel, he waited.  They were practically nose to nose before the intruder halted.  A confused woomph came from the figure when the Half-Elf didn’t move.  A large black nose snuffled at the Druid’s robes and tiny black eyes stared near-sightedly down at him.  “I am sorry, but you’ll have to den elsewhere, my friend.  These ‘caves’ are occupied.”

 

The Grizzly shifted to the right, still intent on the close – and dry – tents, ignoring the Half-Elf before him in favor of getting out of the rain.

 

“I said, no.”  The Druid again placed himself between the bear and its’ target.  His tone was low and unthreatening, but firm.  “Find another place.”

 

A growl half of frustration and half threat emanated from the bear’s throat and it rose on it’s hindquarters, trying to intimidate through sheer size.

 

A sardonic smile played about Balen’s lips, but the Druid held firm, stance unyielding, gaze firmly locked with the bear’s.  Another growl sounded and the Grizzly swiped a huge paw against its much smaller opponent, obviously expecting the Druid to stand aside.  The bear jerked back in surprise as a lupine snarl met its ears.  Through the rain, the bear’s sense of smell picked up wolf-scent.  Dropping to all fours in confusion, the bear swung its head back and forth, trying to locate the wolf.

 

“Bed down elsewhere, Ursa.  You aren’t prepared for this fight,” and Balen shifted.

 

Finally discovering the source of the scent, the bear backed slowly away.  A bear, if given a choice, won’t fight a wolf over den sites.  It probably could take on a single wolf in combat, but Bear recognized the stance the wolf displayed.  This one was exhibiting the signs of being the scout of a pack and the bear wasn’t stupid enough to take on an entire pack for a bit of dry shelter.  It backed away, aware of the wolf’s gaze upon it the entire time.

 

Once it left, Balen paced the perimeter the rest of his watch, only waking his relief when he was satisfied it had gone for good.  “We had a visitor.”

 

Myla looked alarmed, gripping her morning star tightly.  “Where?”

 

“I sent him away.  But if a large black grizzly comes sniffing around, let me know.”  The druid headed for his bedroll, leaving behind a bemused Cleric.

 

8

 

A muffled roar greeted the overcast dawn.  Heron, who was on watch, ducked into the tent, battle ax ready.  Hawk, Jaxon and Balen were up against the walls of the tent, warily watching an enraged Paladin. Simond stood in one corner of the tent, fists on hips as he stared angrily at his gear.  A large rip in the canvas had let the rainwater in, soaking his pack and armour.  With a heavy sigh and an implored look heavenward, the Paladin knelt to gather his gear to begin the long drawn-out process of drying everything before mold and rust set in.  Balen pulled Hawk out of the tent, whispering urgently as Jaxon bent to help the Captain.  Heron scooped up the bedroll and followed them out of the tent.  Heron and Balen were jury-rigging a lean-to. Rianna donated a waterproof tarp to spread on the ground and the group all helped to unpack and spread out the Paladin’s equipment.

 

888

 

Looks like one of your daggers is a lost cause, dad,” Daryl mentioned after rolling a die.

 

“Rusty armor,” Blair sang.

 

“Beat up sword,” Brian joined.

 

“That’s a Paladin’s reward,” Megan added.

 

“Clank, clank, rattle, rattle,” Rhonda finished.  The four burst into laughter as the others looked on in confusion.  Daryl hid a smile behind his hand.

 

Sighing heavily, Simon looked at his son and asked plaintively, “You hate me, don’t you?”

 

“It’s just business, dad.  Nothing personal.”  The smile widened.

 

“And where did you all learn that?” This was directed at the impromptu singers.

 

“Conventions,” Blair stated.  Megan and Brian nodded.

 

Rhonda nodded as well.  “My niece learned it at a convention.  Apparently a group of gamers had a lady who was terrific at creating Bardic songs for whatever situation her character found herself in.  Some of them caught on and are used by other gamers.”

 

Simon shook his head.  “The things that get around.”

 

888

 

It was well into the afternoon before Simond’s gear was sufficiently dried.  Joryn and Myla checked the horses, ensuring the rain hadn’t caused any to become ill and that their feed hadn’t rotted.  Rianna and Hawk tried to fix the tent before they needed to retire for the evening.

 

“Shhh,” Balen put a finger to his lips as Heron walked over to them.  He motioned toward Jaxon. “Be very, very quiet.  We’re hunting rabbits.”  He grinned.

 

888

 

Blair raised his hands to ward off a slew of napkins thrown at him. “Sorry, sorry.”  But the smile belied the aggrieved tone.

 

Daryl shook his head.  “Okay, we’re going to skip ahead a bit.  You are nearing the township of Deluth.  Although small, the residents are well aware that their town is one of the few places travelers can resupply on their way to the larger cities.  All the amenities are present here.  A blacksmith, furrier, centralized market with weapon stalls, an armoury and leather repair shops.  The town has one Cleric Healer that charges reasonable prices, a small church, and a small militia.”

 

“Does the Thieves Guild have a presence here?” Brian asked.

 

“You going to find out?”

 

Rafe nodded, “I break from the group for a bit.  I find a likely looking beggar, drop a few coins and make the sign for Thief recognition.”

 

Dice rolled.  “The old man nods, gives the countersign and gives you a place to go if you’re planning on any jobs while in town.”

 

“I tuck the information away and move on.”

 

“What are the rest of you doing?”

 

“The Church,” Simon stated after looking at his character sheet.  “I need to tithe if I want to stay a Paladin.”

 

“I need some herbs for my satchel,” Megan piped up.  “I haven’t seen the kind I’m familiar with while we were traveling.”

 

“Want some company?” Blair asked.

 

She grinned.  “That’d be great.  At least I’d know I’m getting good quality with you around.”

 

Joel decided to check out the blacksmith and furrier.  “I want to make sure I have enough materials in case we throw another shoe or four. And maybe purchase a lighter traveling anvil.”

 

“Alright. The blacksmith has a few choices and seems willing to reduce the price if you decide to sell the anvil you’re already carrying.”

 

Jim and Henri exchanged glances.  “Leather shop to buy patches for the tents.  Armoury and weapons shop for replacement pieces.”

 

Rhonda frowned.  “Um … the market to pick up rations for the group.”

 

“You can come with us,” Megan said.

 

“Who’s carrying money?” the Dungeon Master asked.  Everyone but Blair raised their hand.

 

888

 


	3. ch. 7-9 The City of Deluth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The City of Deluth, the end of Friday night and the beginning of Saturday, Landslide.

 

Chapter 7:

 

Finding an inexpensive but secure inn, the group bedded down their mounts and rented several rooms before heading into the town proper.  Hawk disappeared quickly, murmuring something about covering all his bases and promising to meet the others back at the inn for the evening meal.

 

Moving toward the seedier side of town – all two streets of it – Hawk kept a sharp look out for any person that was behaving out of the ordinary.  There, sitting on a stoop, was an older man with wild, scraggly salt and pepper hair and a matching beard.  His clothes were in a state of disrepair that, to an experienced eye, looked a bit too clean to have been slept in.  The tin being slowly shaken in his right hand was a touch too bright and a tad too battered for it to have occurred naturally.  An unruly braid fell behind his left ear, tied off with a ratty piece of red string nearly hidden among the rest of his hair.  Hawk strolled over, nodding amiably at the few citizens on the street.  Dropping a few coins into the tin, Hawk briefly twisted his fingers in the sigil a thief would use when visiting another city and asking permission for a meet.

 

Muddy brown eyes took the Elf’s measure before stubby fingers with split and blackened nails formed the appropriate countersign.  “Moving in?” came the raspy question.

 

Hawk shook his head.  “Passing through.  Checking in.”

 

“Mentz’ Pub.  Ask for Lito.”

 

“’Preciate.”

 

“No mention.”  The beggar gave a gap-toothed grin, pocketing the coins.

 

Hawk moved down the street, paying no more mind to the beggar.

 

 

Heading toward the center of town, Simond broke off from the others at the Church.  “I’ll meet you at the armoury after I’m finished, or back at the Inn if it takes longer than expected.”

 

The Paladin entered the small church, breathing deeply the scent of sandalwood and incense.  He knelt and crossed himself before the main altar, then moved off to the right where a small prayer alcove was situated.  Using a taper, he lit a candle, then knelt in silent prayer for the lives he had taken as well as for the lives that were now under his protection.

 

He had been there for over a candlemark before the priest on duty approached him.

 

“My son, you have traveled far?”

 

“Yes, Father, and I have much farther to go.  I wish to grant my tithe and ask of any news you may have heard along my projected path.”

 

“Come, my son, and we shall discuss this in my office.”  He escorted the Paladin back to his office.

 

8

 

Heron and Jaxon headed toward the weaponsmith; replacement and auxiliary weapons foremost on their minds.  The two made a formable-looking pair.  The Barbarian walked with a long-legged, mile-eating stride that set his braids swinging and his battle ax thumping lightly along his shoulders.  Powerful arms swung easily by his side.  The smile in his eyes belied the stern expression on his face.  The Ranger, though shorter than Heron by several inches, looked no less dangerous.  A sure-footed stride carried him smoothly across the paved pathway, limbs moving easily.  Sharp eyes took in his surroundings and ears cocked to catalogue each unfamiliar sound.

 

Heron took note, with some pleasure, the appreciative looks and glances they were garnering from the ladies they passed.  Perhaps the evening wouldn’t be spent alone that night.

 

8

 

Myla pulled Rianna and Balen into the heart of the marketplace, intent on locating appropriate supplies for their journey.  The street was lined with stalls of various sizes.  Carts were wheeled up and down the street.  Storekeepers kept up a string of praises for their particular goods.  “Onions.  Get your sweet onions, here!”

 

“The finest bread this side of Cadecas.  Piping hot!”

 

“Fresh beef.  Corn-fed cattle from the foothills of Fangmore Mountains. Nothing better!”

 

“Herbs for sale.  Garlic, parsley, rosemary, thyme.  I’ve got herbs for cooking and Healing.  Hand gathered and recently cut, or dried to your preference.  Get your herbs here!”

 

“Let’s check that stall.”  Myla angled past a clothier and a glass blower’s stall to reach a medium sized stall with a green awning, filled with the scent of herbs.

 

“Greetings, Gentlebeings.  Welcome to my humble shop.  My name is Varian.  How may I be of service to you this day?”  The tall, burly human grinned sunnily at them through his thick red beard.  The sun glinted off his bald pate and silver belt buckle that had been shaped in the symbol of the Holy leaf, a sign that meant that if not a Druid, then he had been formally trained in the art of Herbalism.

 

“I’m looking to resupply my kit.  Do you carry Willow bark, Echinacea, Feverfew, Chamomile…” She looked at Balen.

 

“Fenugreek, Thyme, Marigold and Lavender.”

 

Bushy brows rose to meet his hairline, no mean feat.  “It’s nice to work with someone who knows what they want.  How much to you require?”

 

Myla flashed a winsome grin.  “Depends on the quality.”

 

“Well put.  Allow me to show you my wares.”

 

Balen took a half-step back to allow Myla better access to the counter.  He rocked on his heels, eyes continuously scanning the aisle they were in.  Rianna laid a hand on Balen’s arm, gaining his attention. “Everything alright?”

 

He nodded, smiling shyly at her.  “Just nervous.  It’s been a long time since I’ve been in a city.”  He continued to rock slightly, his eyes flashing yellow-gold.

 

“Really? How long?”

 

Balen shrugged, eyes roving across the street, taking in the different people moving easily between the shops.  “At least twenty years, but I’m not quite sure.”

 

“Twenty years?”

 

Again Balen shrugged.  “It’s easy to lose track of time when you live alone in the forest.  Jaxon tried to get me to go to town a few times, but I just never felt comfortable.”

 

“If you start to feel overwhelmed, let us know.  We can cut this trip short.”

 

Balen smiled, his rocking ceasing.  “Thank you.”  He was soon pulled into a discussion on the varying potency between fresh and dried herbs.

 

Rianna, a bit bored by the trade, moved down two stalls to bargain for hopefully edible hardtack and dried beef.  “Fourteen loaves of hardtack and fourteen pounds of jerky.”

 

The shopkeeper blinked, then her eyes narrowed speculatively.  “Eighteen silver.  Three for the hardtack and fifteen for the beef.”

 

Rianna shook her head, a gleam in her eye.  “For bread and beef?  Funny, I didn’t see the Cooking Guild’s best recommendation sign upon your wall.  One silver, thirty copper.”

 

The shopkeeper put a hand on her chest, stumbling up against the countertop as if suffering from a heartattack.  “Milady.  You wound me.  Twelve silver.  I have children to raise.”

 

“I have no tie to your children, raise them on someone else’s money. I am not made of money that I can throw it to whoever asks.  I could purchase the bare ingredients to make them myself for less than half that price.  However, I have no talent for cooking, so … two silver, thirty copper.”

 

“Are you tying to ruin me?  I have a business to run.  Never have I been so insulted.  Eight silver and fifty copper.”

 

Rianna tapped one of the loaves with her finger, wincing dramatically at the sound.  “I know it’s called hardtack, but this is ridiculous. I’m traveling; I don’t have a week to soak this until it’s edible.  Three silver, eighty copper.”

 

The corner of the shopkeeper’s mouth twitched.  “You drive a hard bargain, milady.  Six silver for the lot.  That’s my final offer.”

 

Rianna paused a moment, then nodded.  “Agreed.  Six silver it is.”

 

The woman broke into a wide smile.  “Bater,” sealing the bargain.

 

Reaching for her purse, the mage felt a tug at her waist just as a startled yelp sounded in her ear.  Turning in surprise, she saw a small, thin man standing beside her.  Grass, stems, vines, and weeds were wrapped around his feet and lower legs, literally rooting him to the spot. With one hand, the man hacked at the offensive greener with a knife. In the other was a familiar looking purse.

 

“Thief!”

 

He looked up, startled fear in his eyes.  “What the devil you talkin’ about, lady?  I ain’t no thief.”  He paused briefly in his struggles to clutch tighter at the leather purse.

 

“Return my pouch, sirrah, or you’ll wish you’d stayed in bed, today.”

 

“Yer gonzo lady.  Thisn’s mine.  Gonna buy me some beef, I was.”

 

“Not with my coin, you’re not.  Return it immediately.”  Blue eyes sparkled with anger.

 

A crowd began to gather.  Along one side, arms full of her purchases, Myla glanced at the vines then shot a look at Balen.  Balen gazed impassively back, but the Cleric thought she saw a hint of mischief in his eyes.  The man hacked again at the weeds, emitting a squawk as a vine snaked up his arm, pinning his knife hand to his side.  “Let me go, witch!”

 

Rianna snorted.  “You should do your research better before you rob someone.  I’m no witch.  An Entangle spell is not something I can do.”

 

A woman wearing the silver and gray of the King’s militia pushed her way through the crowd.  “Stand aside.  Stand aside.  Official business.”  Seeing the irate lady, who, though dressed in travel-worn gear, still exuded the aura of Nobility, the officer unconsciously straightened her tunic and stance.  “What seems to be the trouble?”

 

“This … this … miscreant attempted to abscond with my purse.  I want him arrested immediately.”

 

The officer turned to the thief and gaped a moment.  It wasn’t everyday she was asked to arrest someone already trussed up.  “Pendaron. You’ve been warned once before.  What do you have to say for yourself?”

 

Pendaron tried for an innocent smile.  “Officer Wellion.  I don’t know what all the fuss is.  I was merely trying to purchase some beef jerky from this fine establishment when I found me feet tangled up and the lady here callin' me a thief.  Really, what is the world coming to?”

 

“Fine,” said Rianna, a glint in her eye.  “If it’s yours, open it.  Or tell us the contents.”

 

Nervously looking around at the crowd as well as his mark and the officer, Pendaron licked his lip and tried to bluff.  “I was in a hurry.  I couldn’t possibly remember what I threw in it.”

 

“Is there anything in there that is obviously unique, my Lady?” Officer Wellion asked.

 

“My Mage sigil and a silver ring set with a tiger-eye.”  A hard smile appeared upon her lips.  “But he won’t be able to open it.  I spelled it earlier this morning.”

 

The officer’s brows bobbed, but she made no comment.  “Pendaron. Open the pouch.”

 

“That’ll be a bit difficult.  Two hands are needed for that.  Sorry.”

 

The vine unwrapped his arm and hand, but stayed fast against the knife, trapping it in place.  The thief frowned, then attempted to open the pouch.  Tugging and pulling had no effect and with a defeated sigh, he dropped the pouch into Wellian’s waiting palm.

 

“My Lady, your turn.”

 

Rianna leaned forward and whispered something at the pouch.  The strings loosened, pretty as you please.  Wellion peered in and saw the sigil and ring.  She fixed the thief with a steely glare.  She returned the pouch to its owner, apologizing profusely.  “I’m terribly sorry for any inconvenience, my Lady.  I assure you, he will be dealt with appropriately.”

 

“Thank you for your concern.”

 

Wellion secured Pendaron’s hands behind his back and confiscated the knife. She looked at the vines.  “Um … if you could?”

 

The foliage loosened abruptly and the officer marched the thief away.

 

As the crowd dispersed, Rianna paid for her purchases.  Myla and Balen helped carry the packages and by mutual consent decided to return to the Inn.

 

“Thank you, Balen.”

 

“You’re welcome.”

 

8

 

Joryn stepped into the blacksmith shop, his eyes automatically categorizing and evaluating the display pieces at the front of the building, as well as the pieces in progress beside the anvil.  He’d learned long ago that the best way to judge a craftsman was to see if he took just as much care with the underlying layers of a piece as he did with the outer finished product.  He nodded to himself, pleased at the obvious care that the metal had gone through.

 

At the bellows, naked to the waist, was a short, burly human.  His build spoke of Dwarven blood somewhere along the family tree.  The Blacksmith pulled a piece of iron out of the coals with a set of tongs.  Setting it on the anvil, he picked up a hammer and pounded upon the metal, striking the anvil every other stroke to dissipate the heat, his strokes measured and carefully placed.  He thrust the iron into a barrel of water at his side, a billow of steam obscuring his face.  He examined his progress and replaced the iron back into the coals, heating the metal for another go at the anvil.

 

Spotting Joryn, he gestured for a young man in a leather apron to take over the bellows.  He spoke shortly with his apprentice before moving forward himself to meet with the Dwarf.  “Sir, how may I help you?”

 

He grasped the Blacksmith’s forearm in greeting.  “I’m in need of a traveling anvil. The one I have is too cumbersome for the journey I have ahead of me.”

 

“I have three travel sizes available.”  He drew Joryn off to one side, waving a hand at the equipment along the wall.  “A standard which is fifty pounds.  A thirty pounder and a fifteen pound version.”

 

“I already have a fifty pound one.  How much for a thirty?”

 

“Fifty gold.”

 

“Would you be willing to purchase my anvil?  Perhaps trade it for a smaller version?”

 

The Blacksmith scratched his chin.  “Depends on the amount of wear it shows.  Tell you what, you can trade in your anvil and I’ll sell the thirty pound one to you for only twenty-five gold.”

 

“Throw in a handful of starting iron?”

 

“Deal.” The two shook on it.

 

8

 

‘Mentz’ Pub’ was scorch-engraved on a small plaque nailed beside the plain wood door.  Hawk rapped lightly and a window within the portal slid open.  Two dark eyes peered out.  “Yesss?” the sibilant hiss barely made itself heard over the rattling of carts upon the cobblestones.

 

“Request. Lito?”  A twist of the fingers on one hand gained the Elven Thief entrance.

 

“Second table.  Don’t order.”  Hawk slid through the entrance without acknowledging the doorman and moved toward the spot indicated. Reclining in the seat, one leg casually thrown over an arm, he was the very picture of unconcerned indolence.  Producing a stiletto from the folds of his cloak, he began cleaning his nails, all the while silently casing the room for possible exits, problem spots, and possible marks for when his business was concluded.  He waved off the waitress, content to let the local Guild Master initiate this meeting on his own terms.

 

A quarter of a candlemark passed.  Hawk had replaced the dagger with a coin, dancing it across his knuckles, his eyes ceaselessly flickering over the bar and its patrons and employees.  He smiled to himself. Again the waitress approached.  “May I get ya anthin’?”  Grey eyes, pale skin and dark hair that fell in a curtain to the middle of the back gave her the appearance of a small living shadow.  His smile widened.

 

“Safe passage.”

 

“Excuse me?” A frown crossed the girl’s face and she shot him a puzzled look.

 

“I require safe passage for myself and my friends.”  He made eye contact.  “Lito.”

 

She stared at him a moment, expression still locked into one of puzzlement.  When he didn’t drop his gaze, or stammer an apology, a flicker of a smile twitched her lips and she gracefully slid into the seat opposite him, sliding her try beneath the table.  “How’d you guess?”

 

“It’s a nice pub.”  He waved a hand, encompassing the entire establishment.  “But not even the nicest pub can keep the patrons so well behaved toward a good-looking serving wench.  A few of your men were a touch too solicitous.  No pawing, no leers, and no tipping.”

 

“Something we’ll have to work on, I see.”  She stared at him, head canted to one side, eyes half-lidded.  “What’s this about safe passage?  I don’t ken ye from a hole in th’ ground.  Why should you and yers be untouchables?”

 

With a seated half-bow more formal than any seen in the most fashionable courts, Hawk introduced himself.  “Hawk.  Cadecas Enclave.  Winter member.”  He presented his Guild-token, a thin piece of wood with a stylized snowflake inlaid in silver.

 

She examined it, then leaned back in her seat, eyeing him.  “You could have stolen that.”

 

“Automatically makes me a member, then, doesn’t it,” was the calm reply.

 

“Vines.” A cryptic statement.

 

A smile played about his lips.  “Nature’s staircase.”

 

Lito relaxed, satisfied at the answer.  “Any plans?”

 

“Passing through.  No time to play.”

 

Her gaze drifted along his form, a coy smile slowly forming.  “None?”

 

“Perhaps,” was the purred response.

 

888

 

“Daryl!” Simon’s shocked voice cut through the story, causing several to jump in their seats.

 

“Yesss?” The young man blinked innocently up at his father, a devilish look in his eyes.  “Relax, dad.  It’s just a game.  Remember?”

 

Simon muttered to himself, but nodded nodded none-the-less.

 

888

 

Joryn raised a hand in greeting as Balen, Myla and Rianna entered the common room of Mockingbird Inn.  “Over here.”

 

The three ordered drinks, visibly relaxing as they sat, their parcels up in their quarters.  “We’ve procured enough rations to last us at least a week.  Longer if we add to the stores through some hunting or fishing.”  Myla took a long draft of her ale, her eyes flickering to the door as Hawk entered the establishment.

 

The Elf gave the three a measuring glance, then grinned.  “The Guild Master sends his apologies.  Such an incident should not have occurred.  You’re all under Guild protection as long as I behave myself.  He also thanks you for not killing Pendaron.  Though not a very great thief, he comes in handy at times.”

 

“So, we won’t be bothered anymore?” Myla looked for confirmation.

 

“Right. Well, at least from those thieves who are members.  They know better than to mess with the Guild Master.  The rest of them are still amateurs.  Your ‘display’ today will most likely keep all but the truly desperate and foolhardy away.”

 

“Well, that’s a relief, I suppose.”

 

“What’s a relief?”  Heron and Jaxon pulled up chairs, nodding their thanks as the waitress placed two ales before them.

 

“Hawks arranged a bit of safe passage for us with the Guild,” Rianna explained.

 

“That’s good.”  Jaxon looked around the room.  “Anyone seen Simond?”

 

“Still at the church for all I know,” Joryn remarked.  “But he said he’d meet us for dinner.  So he should be here shortly.”

 

“I say we order.  No need to starve while we wait.”  The Barbarian waved the waitress over, ordering for Simond as well.

 

The Paladin entered as the food was delivered.  The friends dug into their meals.  “The main trade route has been blessedly free of raiders of late.  We can follow it for two days before heading west towards the section of mountains indicated on the map,” Simond related.  “The priest was unable to give any news of conditions further than that.  Hopefully we’ll encounter someone who can tell us how the land lies as we get closer.”

 

“Provisions are taken care of.  I’ll have a new anvil and set of irons by tomorrow.”  Joryn quaffed his ale, signaling for another.

 

“The weaponsmith said he’d have our gear repaired in two days hence,” Jaxon added.  “Myla, you Rianna and Balen might wish to drop by there tomorrow.  I saw a set of knives and short swords which may be to your liking.”

 

By mutual agreement, the group retired early that evening.  The two ladies shared a room; with Hawk, Heron, and Simond in a room to the right, and Joryn, Jaxon, and Balen on the left.

 

8

 

Sometime that night, Joryn was aware of a muffled conversation between his two roommates.  Partly awake, he heard the shutters to the windows open then close.  When no other disturbances made themselves known, the Dwarf fell into a dreamless slumber.

 

Joryn rose before the sun, intent on getting breakfast out of the way in order to get to the Blacksmiths early.  Jaxon opened one eye, established the Dwarf was no threat, and drifted back into sleep. The third pallet looked as if no one had slept in it and no sign of the Druid could be found.

 

Heading toward the stall to check on the horses, he heard the clash of steel up ahead.  Cautiously, hand upon the hilt of his dagger, Joryn moved to investigate. He relaxed considerably when he saw Hawk and Balen sparring with one another in the cleared area behind the building. Joryn leaned against the wall, listening and watching the practice session.

 

Hawk lunged forward forcing Balen to dodge backward out of reach.  “Have you had much practice?”  The Thief took another step and attacked again.

 

Balen parried the low thrust, ducking under a backhand blow.  “No. I can't seem to master Jaxon’s style and I had no inclination to look for another teacher.  Not when I could use the forest to help me.” As if to accentuate the point, a tree root reached out to trip Hawk.

 

The Elf turned his stumble into a forward roll that took him out of his opponent’s range.  Turning, two quick steps reengaged him with the Druid.  The two were evenly matched.  Although smaller, Balen appeared quicker than Hawk. However, Hawk could use his longer reach to keep the Druid from closing on him and his experience with the shortsword was apparent.

 

“Magic is fickle,” the Thief explained.  “You should never depend solely upon it for it will inevitably let you down.”  A deft twist of his blade along the length of steel had Balen’s sword fly out of his hands.  He leveled his sword at the Half-Elf.

 

In a surprisingly swift move, Balen dived at Hawk’s feet, bringing the Thief down.  Hawk stilled as he felt cold metal upon his neck.  Balen grinned, the expression looking more feral than reassuring.  “I don’t.  But thank you for the advice.”  He pulled back and offered his hand to Hawk.

 

The Elf’s lips twisted in an annoyed mock-pout.  “You’ll never make a decent swordsman if you keep losing your sword.”  He accepted the hand up, returning the fallen sword to the Half-Elf.

 

Balen’s grin softened, becoming impish.  “And you’ll never make a decent thief is you can’t even tell you’ve been burgled.”  Flipping the knife over, he presented it to Hawk, hilt first.

 

“Man, maybe you should think about changing careers.”  Hawk ruefully slipped the dagger back into its boot sheath.

 

“Never work.  Cities aren’t really my thing.  Do you think you can teach me?”

 

“You’ve got talent and you can still use some of what Jaxon taught you.  A few of those moves are just variations of what I do.  But, you’ve got a good technique and you’re adaptable.  That’s always a good factor.”

 

“I agree,” Joryn pushed himself off the wall, announcing his presence. “You’ve already got what it takes to survive a fight, and outside a tourney that’s all you really need.  The fancier moves that Hawk can teach you look pretty, but tend to get left behind when you’re in a life-and-death situation.”

 

“So, I don’t have to learn a particular fighting style?”

 

Hawk shook his head.  “No.  Look, everyone learns the basics, right? Then they use what works for them, what’s familiar or more comfortable for their style of weapon, body type, terrain, etc. There’s no one fighting style that’s better than all the others, just a conglomerate that works for you.”

 

Balen nodded in understanding.  The three entered the stables to put away the practice gear and check on the horses.  “Think you can show me how to do that disarming move you used on me?”

 

“Sure, if you show me that diving move you used.”

 

“Deal.”

 

8

 

Myla finished her morning prayers.  Raising from her lotus position and extending her arms straight up, she stretched until she stood tiptoe. “Good morning.”

 

In the bed beneath the window Rianna opened her eyes, a mild look of distaste crossing her features as the dawn light shone on her.  “How can you be so cheerful? It’s barely dawn.  Much too early for such cheerfulness.”  The Mage pulled the blankets up around her chin, blocking the light from her eyes.

 

“Ah, come now.  It’s a new day.  Not a cloud to be seen.  It’s a glorious morning.  Come on. Let’s go down for breakfast.”

 

A muffled negative was the reply.  “We don’t have to leave until tomorrow.  Then I’ll deal with early morning wake up calls. Until then, I think I’ll take advantage of this nice soft bed, thank you very much.”

 

The Cleric shrugged.  “Suit yourself.  I hope I’ll see you before the noontime meal.”  She chuckled at the half-hearted wave she received from the depths of the bedclothes as she headed out the door.

 

She ran into Simond in the hallway.  “Good morning.  What plans do you have for today?”

 

The Paladin shrugged expansively.  “There’s not much to do until we pick all our gear up tomorrow.”

 

“Care to join me in a bit of sparring?”

 

8

 

The two warmed up in the courtyard beside the stables.  Balen was perched on a low branch of an apple tree that grew in one corner.  He was munching on a large piece of fruit - much to Simond and Myla’s amusement, as the tree wasn’t even in bloom. “I’ll have one a piece for each of you when you’re finished.”  A glint of mischief shown.  “But, you’ll have to earn them.”

 

“Nice bit of incentive, isn’t it?” Myla asked with a grin.

 

“Think you’re up to the challenge?” Simond grinned, loosening his sword in its sheath.

 

“Bring it on.”

 

The clang and clash of steel soon gave them an audience.  Several children stood near the courtyard entrance watching the swordplay with wide eyes.  When one ventured closer, leaning up against the tree Balen had claimed, the Druid dropped an apple at the girl’s feet.  If possible, the girl’s eyes widened further as she scooped the fruit up.  Rather than biting into it immediately, as Balen had expected, the child darted back to the others to share.  The youngest got the first bite, juice dribbling down his chin having escaped from a wide grin.

 

Three more apples dropped from the tree.  They were pounced upon with shouts of glee. The girl-child peered up into the tree branches, but was unable to find anything.  Patting the bark she whispered, “Thank you,” and turned her attention back to the sparring.

 

Myla did a quick left-hand swipe with her sword, trying to take the Paladin by surprise.  A jolt went up her arm as the blow was blocked. She dodged backward to avoid a slash aimed at her midsection. “You’ve gotten better.”

 

“After nearly seven years training, I should hope so!”

 

“Who’ve you been studying with?  Talon Marks?”  She spoke of the weaponsmaster that had taken her under his wing when she was just learning the art of swordplay.

 

Simond shook his head.  “Talon died four years ago.”  He quickly pulled back a blow as the Cleric dropped her guard in shock.

 

“Died? How?” She blinked up at him, eyes wide.

 

“He was crossing a frozen lake when his horse threw him.  He fell through the ice and drowned.”  Simond frowned. “His apprentice nearly died as well trying to save him.  By the time a Cleric could be called, it was too late.”

 

A soft heart-felt curse was heard and Myla slowly sheathed her sword.

 

Simond put a hand on her shoulder.  “I’m sorry.”

 

She nodded; eyes bright with unshed tears. “Not your fault.  He was a good man.  And a brilliant swordsman.”

 

“That he was.”  He hesitated.  “Are you going to be alright?”

 

She swiped a sleeve across her face. “ I’ll be fine.  Just a shock, you know?  I think …  I’m going to light a candle for him.  If you’ll excuse me.”  She slowly walked out of the courtyard, smiling absently at the children in passing.

 

Simond sighed again, sheathing his own sword as he strode back into the Tavern.  The children exchanged glances, shrugged and moved off, munching on apples.  The uppermost branches shivered once and were still.

 

888

 

Simon stopped and blinked at everyone in confusion. “Where did that come from?”

 

“It doesn’t matter,” Blair interjected.  “It works.  Keep going.”

 

888

 

Chapter 8:

 

The next morning, the small village was awakened by what sounded like a full-scale battle being waged behind the Mockingbird Inn. A sparring session was in progress and a strange sight it was: nearly twenty people were in the small courtyard working in small groups.

 

On the eastern side of the courtyard, an Elf practiced with a shorter Half-Elf. Every once and while they would demonstrate a certain move to the two young boys who watched avidly from the side.  Two large humans - one a Barbarian - battled with sword and axe in the center of the courtyard.  They seemed evenly matched.  Three townies listened to the direction given by a knight and human woman before mimicking their action with their swords.  A slender Elven woman nodded, then flipped three daggers in quick succession at the wood stable door at the approving smile of a middle-aged Human townie. A few women and children took their own turn at the target.  The Dwarf grinned at his opponent as the lanky Elven townie hopped over the low swing and pointed out the Dwarf’s tendency to pull to the right after each blow.

 

It was with good wishes and many fare-the-wells that the small troupe left Deluthe the next morning, packs resupplied, armour patched and sufficiently armed to deal with any eventuality that they might come upon.

 

8

 

The mountains loomed closer and Simond reckoned they were a day and a half ride from their destination.

 

8

 

Rianna moved off the road to take care of some business, keeping out of sight, but not out of earshot of the group.  As she knotted the tie on her breeches, she stiffened at the feel of cold steel upon the side of her neck.  “Your money or your life, my lady,” the gravelly voice whispered in her ear.

 

She wrinkled her nose as the stench of rotting teeth and halitosis reached her.  She flinched slightly as he grasped her left wrist in his grip.  She reached for her pouch and hissed as the edge of the knife dug into her skin.  “Gently, my lady.  Ever so slowly.  With two fingers, untie the string.  There you go.”

 

While the robber was busy watching the fingers of her right hand, he didn’t notice the fingers on her left twist and cross into a specific sigil. She held the pouch between the two fingers.  “Now what?”

 

“Now, be a dove, and place it in this pouch.” He shifted behind her, one leg edging into her vision, a pouch hanging open against his thigh. She dropped her pouch into it, her left hand making another sigil. “Now, don’t turn around for a hundred count, or make a sound, and we won’t have any unpleasantness occur. It wouldn’t do to alert your friends. There’s a love.”

 

Rianna stood still as the man inched back and away from her.  With a final twist of her fingers and a quick stream of words, she turned and flung her arm out at the man, freezing him in place.  With a set expression, she strode over to him and looked him deep in the eyes, easily reading the panic in them.  “It’s always a good idea to know exactly what your mark is capable of before you try to rob them, ‘ _love’_ ,” she snarled out the last word and stripped him of his weapons.  She efficiently retrieved her purse, and with a mocking grin, relieved him of his own as well.

 

“Rianna?” Heron’s voice sounded.

 

“Over here.  I’ve got an unwanted visitor.”

 

Shortly after, the eight ringed the luckless would-be thief.  “What should we do with him?” Rianna asked, one finger tapping her lips speculatively.

 

“We could string him up,” Heron pointed at a nearby tree.  “There’s a likely enough branch.”  He shot a glare at the frozen man.

 

Hawk shook his head.  “We might need the rope later.  No good leaving it behind for the likes of him.”

 

“Turn him in to the local authorities,” the Paladin proposed.

 

“Deluth is two days behind us,” Myla reminded.  “The next town is on the other side of the mountains.  Are you sure you want to keep him under watch that long?”

 

“How long will the spell last?” Joryn asked.

 

“Until morning.”

 

“Why so long?”

 

“He startled me and I was in a hurry.  I couldn’t specify a time.”

 

Jaxon studied the robber unblinkingly.  “Leave him.”

 

“What?” Rianna looked askance at him.

 

“He won’t starve by morning.  He’s away from the road, so no one should take advantage of his helplessness, especially if we camouflage him a bit.”

 

A small smile was shared among them – one that made the robber want to shiver in response.  Rianna exchange a glance with Balen and then very obviously made a gesture while the Druid surreptitiously had the surrounding under growth climb and clamber over the horrified man covering him from head to toe in greenery.  To casual inspection, he looked like a tree stump.  Rianna tucked a dagger into his belt and the companions left the thief without a word.

 

A candlemark later, the paralyzed thief heard a rustling in the underbrush.  His eyes widened, hoping it was someone to free him, fearful that it was not.  A large grey wolf padded into view.  It sniffed around, uncannily locking gazes with the human.  A deep growling commenced and the wolf paced in front of him in agitation. Night fell, the half moon giving the thief all too much light in which to see the lupine gaze still upon him.  Snarls jerked him from his uneasy sleep time and time again.  He was never aware of the various creatures that had been drawn to his fear stench nor their departure at the wolf’s territorial cries.  As dawn approached, the wolf moved closer, never dropping its yellow-gold gaze from him. With a snort that sounded suspiciously derisive, it lifted its leg upon his feet.  Kicking dirt upon him, it turned its back and left.

 

Moments later, the thief fell to the ground, tangled in vines, as the spell cancelled.  Using his dagger he freed himself and quickly headed towards town, determined to take up a safer occupation.

 

Three candlemarks after dawn, Jaxon glanced to his left to see a self-satisfied wolf trotting alongside him.

 

888

 

“Now, that’s funny,” Megan chuckled.

 

“Serves him right,” Rhonda agreed.

 

Blair grinned.  “Well, he scared Rianna while she was helpless.  As a Druid, I felt it only fair that the same happened to him.  Balance.”

 

Daryl glanced at the clock and blinked in surprise.  “I think this is a good place to stop for the night.”

 

“What time is it?” Rafe asked, craning his head to see the VCR clock.

 

“Nearly two,” his partner responded.

 

“I am definitely getting too old for this,” Joel groaned as he levered himself up from the couch.  “What are the sleeping arrangements for tonight?”

 

“Rhonda and Megan have Sandburg’s room.  We borrowed a trundle bed from a neighbor.  Simon, you and Daryl are in my room.  Joel has the couch and we can put the chairs with the loveseat to make too more beds for Rafe and Brown.”

 

“What about the two of you?” Henri looked at the loftmates.

 

“Sleeping bags and bedrolls are the way to go,” Blair grinned.

 

Only token protests were made as Jim and Blair rearranged the furniture and provided bedding for their guests.  It took another hour for the eight adults to coordinate their evening ablutions.  Daryl, Simon, Jim and Henri taking quick showers, the others opting to wait till morning.  “You do not want to deal with me after sleeping all night on wet hair,” Blair commented.

 

“Sticks up all over the place, doesn’t it?” Meagan commiserated.

 

“The snarls make rat nests look orderly,” Jim smirked.

 

Blair shot an irritable look at his partner.  “Yeah, well, I refuse to be responsible for my actions when people comment on it.”  He rinsed off the last of the plates.  “Anybody need anything before we call it a night?”

 

“Night, guys.”  Megan gave a friendly wave before retreating through the French doors behind Rhonda.

 

“Night, ladies.”

 

Daryl climbed the stairs to Jim’s bedroom.  He leaned over the railing to look down as the others prepared for bed.  “You sure you don’t mind us taking your bed, Jim?”

 

“It’s the privilege of authority, Daryl,” Jim assured.

 

“Oh,” the young man nodded as he glanced up at his dad.  “Guess being a Captain ain’t all bad, huh, Dad?”

 

“Dungeon Master, Daryl.  Dungeon Master.  A well rested DM is a happy DM and a happy DM means interesting story lines.”  Blair met his eyes, a grin on his face.

 

“Oh.” A pleased blush colored his cheeks and his father clapped him on the shoulder.

 

“Good night, gentlemen.”

 

A chorus of “Good night, Captain,” and one “Night, Simon,” followed him up.

 

Blair made sure everyone was comfortable.  Jim checked all the doors and windows.  Fifteen minutes later, only the gentle breathing of sleepers disturbed the loft’s silence.

 

8

 

Blair glanced up from the frying pan as Rhonda and Megan stepped through the front door.  With a grin of delight, he placed a large platter out on the island for the doughnuts the two ladies returned with. “That was quick.”

 

“I don’t live that far and my place has two showers.”  Rhonda admitted as she stashed her purse away.

 

Megan followed suit, her voice low.  “We didn’t think anyone would be up to cooking.  What are you making, Sandy?”

 

“Omelets. What’s your preference?”  It wasn’t long before the rest of the group were drawn to the kitchen.

 

Daryl stumbled downstairs, swiping sleep out of his eyes.  He shook his head as he perched on a barstool and watched as Blair expertly flip an omelet over.  “Man, how can you possibly be this wide awake?”

 

“Years and years of practice.”

 

The young man grinned sleepily, pointed to certain ingredients, and propped his elbows on the island to watch Blair at work.

 

Simon leaned against the island beside his son; blearily staring at the dishes and bowls of ingredients laid out.  Blair reached into one bowl that contained thin, twig-like items and put a handful into the pan.  “What are those?” Simon asked, brows drawn together.

 

“Spider legs,” was the calm response.  Blair had his head down, effectively hiding the mischievous gleam in his eyes.

 

“Spider legs?”  Involuntarily, the burly Captain shuddered and took a step back from the island.

 

“Yeah, Dad.  They’re great.”  Daryl picked up a few and popped them in his mouth.  "Want some?”  He pushed the bowl over and tried to suppress a grin at the look of horror and distaste that crossed his father’s face.  Even H and Rafe looked a bit ill as the young man swallowed gleefully.

 

“Relax, Simon.”  Jim put a hand on his friend’s shoulder.  “They’re just bean sprouts.  Blair gets them in Chinatown.”

 

“Aw, you ruin all the fun, Jim,” Daryl mock groused.

 

“Why are they black?”  Simon picked one up, doubtfully looking at it.

 

“They’re fermented,” Blair explained.  “They get preserved in brine and that’s what turns them black.  They’re good, Simon.”

 

Joel picked one up and tasted it, a thoughtful look on his face.  “Not bad.  Hey, Blair, put some in mine, okay?”

 

“Sure thing, Joel.  How about it Simon, care to try some?”

 

“I think I’ll stick to more recognizable items if you don’t mind.”

 

“How about that?”  Rafe pointed at a greenish brown, leafy vegetable.

 

“Olva Latucka.”

 

“And that would be…?”

 

“Sea lettuce, also known as seaweed.  Chock full of vitamins.  Picked that up in Chinatown, too.”

 

“Sounds interesting.  I’ll have that in mine.”

 

Each made their selections and the group settled themselves back in the circle, pushing the furniture back into their previous positions, while Blair cooked.  Coffee and doughnuts brought the more sleepy members fully awake and ready to tackle the mystery of the puzzlebox once more.

 

888

 

Chapter 9:

 

Hawk noticed Balen's odd behavior first.  The Druid had dropped to the rear of the group as they climbed the pathway up the side of the mountain, and kept staring along their back trail.  “What's wrong?”

 

“Someone's back there.”

 

Hawk turned to stare.  “How do you know?”

 

“See the flocks of birds?  They're taking off in a pattern and none are resettling immediately.  Means there's someone traveling this way and they're not being very quiet about it.”  Another flock took off, their cries just audible.  “I'm going to check it out.  Keep the others moving, I'll catch up.”

 

Hawk nodded and watched in fascination as the Druid dropped into a crouch, skin darkening and sprouting fur, nose lengthening and merging with his chin into a snout.  The silver grey wolf met his gaze for a moment, then took off down the trail.

 

Simond caught Hawk's attention.  “Everything okay?”

 

“Balen went to check on something.  Said he'd catch up.”

 

Balen returned a candlemark later.  “There's a dozen people back there.”

 

“Were you able to find out who they are or where they're going?”  Several boulders cast a shadowed area where they'd taken a break.

 

“I caught a few names.  Their leader's name is Knutim and I heard them call one Viper.”

 

Hawk blinked, paling slightly, green eyes narrowing dangerously.  “Knutim and Viper.  Are you sure?”

 

“As sure as I could be without asking them myself.  Why?”

 

“They're from Cavanocuv.  Knutim is a hired mercenary.  Very, very good at what he does. Viper ... well, even for a thief he's an unscrupulous bastard.”

 

“Think he's after us?” Heron asked his partner.

 

“Who else? Knutim doesn't normally range this direction unless he's got orders.”  He chewed pensively on his lower lip.

 

Joryn motioned towards the mountain.  “Let's press on.  I'm sure we can lose them.”  Nods of agreement were exchanged.

 

Several candlemarks passed before they decided to rest.  Myla pulled out the puzzlebox, blinking as the map changed its focus, showing the surrounding area in more detail.  “According to this, there's a small lake on the far side of the third mountain in this chain.  The map leads right to it.”

 

“How long will it take us to get there?” Simond rumbled.

 

“At our current pace, we won't reach the lake until well after sunset. We'll have to camp for the night.”

 

Jaxon pointed, “There's a town to the East, but it sits opposite the lake on the 'other' side of the mountain.”

 

8

 

“Which way?” Heron asked.  The party stood at a crossroads of sorts. One way led in the direction the map pointed and the other led towards the town.  The passages were narrow, barely wide enough for a decent-sized wagon to scrape through.  The mountains rose on either sides of the passages, giving the no-so-pleasant sensation that the cliff walls were going to fall upon their heads.  “Our supplies are running low and it'll take another day or two to reach the next site. I suggest we hit the town first, then backtrack.”

 

They were startled by an arrogant voice behind them.  “Stand and deliver.”

 

Turning, they spotted what looked like a lone robed figure.  Brown hair streaked with gray hung to his shoulders, a matching beard flowed nearly to his waist.  Only a knife and pouch hung from his belt, declaring him either a magic-user or stupid.  The glint in his eyes convinced them that he wasn't stupid.

 

Jaxon nudged Hawk, who was closest, and stared pointedly off to his right. The Elven thief soon spotted the stealthy forms of two others.  “Oh, look.  Company's coming.”

 

Myra nodded to her left at two more figures.  “And me with my hair all askew. Whate'er shall we do?”

 

Heron grinned, loosening his axe.  “Why, show them an appropriate welcome, of course.”

 

“What do you want?” Joyrn shouted, his tone clearly announcing his annoyance at the interruption.

 

Knutim stepped up to one side and slightly behind the mage, focusing his gaze on Hawk.  “A woman gave you an item near a week ago.  It was stolen from her master.  Kindly return it and we can avoid any unnecessary bloodshed.

 

“I'm constantly being given tokens by lady admirers and it is of no concern to me whence they came.  You'll have to be a bit more specific on which item you're speaking of.”  Hawk waved his hand dismissively.

 

“It was no lady, but a common street thief by the name of Trisk.”  A twisted smile crawled across the mercenary's face.  “She was kind enough to name her contact – you – before she expired.”

 

Hawk leaped forward, intent on ripping out the man's throat, howling incoherently as his partner wrapped a burly arm around his waist, lifting him off his feet.   The others gripped their weapons, ready to repel the attack that was imminent.

 

Jaxon drew back his bow, aiming for the obvious threat – the incanting mage.  He cursed as a sudden jostle from one side sent his arrow wayward.  Dropping the bow, he drew his knife and turned to deflect a blow aimed at his kidneys.  The other man's momentum sent both of them into one of the cliffwalls with enough force to knock the air out of his lungs and disorient him a bit.  He hissed as a line of fire flared along his lower ribs.  A lucky punch disarmed his opponent, and the two rained blows down upon each other.

 

8

 

Myla narrowed her eyes and hefted her morningstar.  A slight rocking motion sent the metal ball swinging on its chain and she faced the two hired thugs before her.  “Who's first?”  She gave a startled yelp when they swung at her simultaneously from either side.  She ducked and brought her weapon swinging upward, the metal sphere connecting with the two swords that occupied the space where she had once been.  The two warriors came around, turning their hips and shoulders to bring their swords in a downward arc.  Unable to rise quick enough, the cleric did a forward somersault between the two men.  Once more or less upright again, she blindly swung her weapon outward, connecting with a leg just below the knee and bringing one swordsman down.  Desperately, she continued her forward scramble, crying out as an edged blade bit deeply  just below her right shoulderblade.

 

8

 

Rianna dashed to one side, putting her back to the stones.  Unmolested for the time being, she quickly weaved together her own spell, hoping she'd finish quicker than her counterpart.  She flung her arms out in the other mage's direction, lips curling in fierce satisfaction as her magic missiles streaked toward their target.  The robed man fell as if pole-axed, his unfinished spell crackled and flared around him, scorching his exposed skin and setting his robes to smouldering.

 

8

 

Joryn stood shoulder to shoulder with Heron and Hawk.  The three managed to keep up a virtual wall of steel between them and their four opponents.  A rock wall behind them ensured that the oily-looking man with the thin, sharp features would not be able to get at their backs, but none liked the easy, sure way the quartet handled their own weapons.

 

8

 

The thief was nearly within striking distance when his quarry suddenly whirled to face him.  A cold, calculating gaze swept over him, and the thief noted with a twinge of fear that an almost animalistic ... hunger ... flashed in the smaller man's eyes.  The thief grasped his dagger tighter, dropping into a fighter's crouch.  The half-elf moved to his left, as if trying to circle the thief.  Coney matched each step, looking for an opening to use.  He wasn't used to face-to-face confrontations and the easy grace of his opponent made him nervous. He jumped as a wolfish grin crossed the half-elf's features.  “Tell me, little rabbit, will you taste as good as you look?”  The tip of his tongue ran along his upper teeth and a growl emanated from his throat.  Coney saw his death in those amber eyes and with a startled yelp, he scrambled backward, putting distance between himself and this madman.  Once out of range, the thief took to his heels; Knutim wasn't paying him enough to deal with psychos.

 

8

 

Simond pulled his sword from his opponent's chest, eyes searching for the next threat before the body even finished its collapse.  Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted one man rabbiting, looking as if the Hounds of Hell were upon his trail.  His focus, however, was caught upon a man off to one side, about thirty feet away.  Tunic and trews made him seem an ordinary warrior, but the hand-waving gave him away as a mage.  Too far away to use his sword, the Paladin palmed a throwing dagger.  Taking a steadying breath, he took a step forward and let the blade fly.  It sunk into the mage's throat, up to the hilt, but it was too late; the spell had already taken shape in the air.  The sudden force backward threw the mage's hands up and the fireball that had been aimed at Hawk's group slammed against the cliffwall with a tremendous crash.

 

888

 

“Uh, oh,” Rafe commented.  The others agreed.

 

888

 

The chaos of fighting quickly turned into a chaos of a different sort as the fireball went off.  Almost in slow motion, a section of the cliffwall fell away with a thunderous rumble.  Shouts of anger turned into shouts of horror and pain as boulders crashed down upon the two companies.  People pushed and jostled their way toward safety, the dust and rocks making it difficult to navigate.  Pebbles and rocks made good footing a near impossibility.  It was hard to tell friend from foe in the confusion, which saved several from a quick knife between the ribs as opponents passed one another.

 

Silence blanketed the area, broken only by the faint patter of late descending pebbles and the harsh breathing of the survivors.  The crossroads were impassable, it would take months of hard labor before even a footpath could be made through what was left of the pass.

 

8

 

Blood ran down into his eyes and Balen swiped impatiently at it with one paw as he studied the path before him.  He lay behind a boulder, the way behind him blocked by rubble, the way before blocked by Knutim and three of his company.  His own friends were nowhere in sight, his head and shoulder hurt, and his opponents looked too alert for his tastes.

 

Just behind and to the right of his enemies, Balen could make out a faint trail that led up and around a bend of the mountain.  If he could reach it, he'd be able to find a quiet spot to heal himself and see about locating the others.

 

Knutim muttered darkly to himself as one of his men bandaged a deep cut in his arm.  “Damn you, Sweddar.  'I have a job for you.  Real simple. Just find the girl and retrieve what she's stolen from me.'  You didn't mention anything about cross-country hikes or that we'd be up against seasoned fighters.”  He addressed his men.  “We'll backtrack to that last town and send a message to Sweddar.  If he wants to pursue this, he'll have to make arrangements for more men.”

 

“No more mages, though.  Alright?” one man asked while staring uneasily at the landslide.

 

Knutim spat. “Piss for brains, the lot of them.”

 

“Captain!”

 

Balen's attention was diverted by a voice nearly in his ear.  “Guess we won't go hungry tonight.”  The slender elven archer drew back on his bow, drawing a bead on Balen.  A low snarl echoed off the rocks and the wolf turned to meet his attacker.  The other three drew their swords and moved for a closer look.

 

Knutim nodded.  “A wolf pelt will fetch a hefty price.  Go a long way to help resupply us.  Try not to damage it too badly, Nicoli.”

 

The elf nodded, his arms steady.  “Viper, swing around. Get the thing out in the open.”

 

A small oily man with thin features circled around in the hopes of flushing the creature from cover.  Balen started forward, jerking back at the last second, the arrow ruffling the fur between his ears. Nicoli cursed, quickly pulling another arrow from his quiver.  Balen never gave him another chance.  With a howl, he threw himself forward, dashing between the legs of one of the swordsmen.  Off balance, the man crashed into Nicoli, the two going down in a tangle of limbs and weapons.  Balen scrambled up the steep incline and soon left the shouting men far behind.

 

8

 

Myla exchanged horrified looks with Hawk before they returned their gaze to where they last saw their friends.  “Are they dead?”

 

Hawk shook his head slowly.  “I don't know.”

 

“We made it,” the cleric tentatively brought up.  “Don't you think they might have as well?”

 

“Anything's possible,” he winced and held his side where a large stone had slammed into him.  “Got any Healing spells available?”

 

“A couple.”

 

“Then you can use them on us.”  Two of Knutim's swordsmen were nearby. One man knelt beside his comrade.  Blood trickled from a cut in his forehead, but other than a slight wavering in his stance as he balanced on one knee, he looked fine.  His companion, on the other hand, didn't look nearly as well.  Blood poured from a wound on the right side of his head, matting his hair and soaking his tunic.  Myla was dismayed to see blood trickling from the man's ears and nose. His right eye was a mass of broken blood vessels, a film already developing over the iris. The man's breathing had a raspy,  bubbling quality to it and the rhythm was erratic and slowing.  Soon the man would be within the arms of his god and no amount of healing she could provide would prevent it.

 

“I can ease his way.  But, he's too injured to benefit from any help I can give.”

 

Green eyes flashed in anger, hatred, and fear.  “You're lying.  You could help him if you wished.”

 

The cleric knelt opposite the upset man.  “I know you have no reason to trust me, but believe me, I cannot heal him.  Please, let me end his suffering.”

 

The man stared into her eyes and she saw the despair well up as he nodded.  Ignoring her, he clasped his friend's hand, trying to provide some comfort.  Myla placed a hand on the mortally wounded man's forehead and closed her eyes, calling out to her God.  “Oh, Benevolent One, hear my plea.  Bring this man unto you peacefully and without further pain.  May his sins be forgiven and his good deeds and thoughts brought to light.”  Reaching into the man's mind, she cut off the pain receptors, then halted the automatic responses. Within moments, the man slipped from this mortal realm.

 

A raven's cry echoed high above them.

 

Knutim's man, Kels, refused their help in burying his friend.

 

Myla and Hawk withdrew in order to talk and tend to their own wounds. “What now?  We can't just leave him here.  And the only way out leads toward the lake.  I'd rather not have him follow us there.”

 

Hawk nodded.  “Yeah.  I'd like him where I can keep an eye on him as well.  Question is, will he agree and what do we do if he causes us any trouble?”

 

“Sticking together is the best way to survive.  I think he'll come around to realizing that if he doesn't already.  And if he gives us any trouble ... we can always tie him to a tree and leave him there.”

 

Hawk studied Myla speculatively.  “It'd be kinder to kill him.”

 

“So who's in the mood to be kind?” was the cold response as she stared once more at the rubble.

 

8

 

Simond stood side by side with Jaxon as the two stared in dismay at the pile of rubble in front of them.  Behind them, they could hear Heron's cursing as Rianna helped him rig an armsling.  “I cannot believe I broke the same damn arm again.”

 

“Do you think any of them survived?”

 

“I hope so,” was the feverent prayer.

 

Rianna frowned in annoyance at the three men who lay trussed and gagged against the stone wall.  “Have you decided exactly what we're going to do with these ruffians?”

 

Simond ran a hand over his face, trying to ignore the throbbing in his right shoulder and hip.  He pulled out  a piece of parchment, glad he'd bought the map earlier.  “According to the map there's a small village about a day's journey along this track.”  He spread it out on a convenient rock.  “If,” he cleared his throat.  “If the others managed to escape the landslide, they're either back along the trail we entered the mountains or along this second trail.”

 

“Where does it lead?”

 

“If they don't get forced off the path, it will take them in the direction of the lake.  They can reach it in about two days.”  He tapped the map, tracing the trail their companions would have to take.  “From there, with this way blocked, there's only one logical way out of the area.  They'd eventually end up at the village.”

 

“If they survived and aren't too injured,”Rianna interjected.

 

Simond nodded solemnly.

 

Jaxon sighed, then unlimbered his bow, which had come through the ordeal miraculously unscathed.  He started down the path.  “I'll see if I can find some game.  We'll also need to find some shelter for tonight.”

 

888

 

“Hey, Joel, where's your character?” Henri looked up from the small sketch he'd made of the situation.

 

“Um ... uh ... I don't know.  I got so caught up in what everyone else was doing.” Joel glanced about sheepishly.

 

Daryl laughed and picked up a pair of dice.  “You've got a 50/50 chance of either being with Hawk and Myla or with Simond's group.”

 

“Why not Balen?” Rafe asked curiously.

 

“True. Up to you,” Daryl offered.  “High, you're with Simond.  Middle, you're with Hawk, and low, you're with Balen.  Okay?”

 

“Sounds reasonable.”

 

Dice clattered against the wood surface of the tray.  “Forty-two. Middle.  You're with Hawk and Myla.”

“How'd we miss him?” Megan asked.

 

Daryl shrugged, “You tell me.”  He sat back with a slight smile.

 

888

 

Myla looked up sharply from where she was inventorying their meager supplies.  A grating sound came from the landslide and the cleric nervously rose to her feet, fearful of a secondary avalanche.  Hawk and Kels joined her, warily watching as the rocks and boulders seemed to give a great heave.  A small sturdy figures was expelled from the resultant crash, coughing and choking from the raised dust.  Picking itself up, it slapped at its clothes, raising another cloud of dust that momentarily obscured the facial features.

 

“By the Stones, I never want to go through that again!” the deep rumbley bass brought tentative smiles to Hawk's and Myla's faces.

 

“Joryn? Is it really you?”  Myla raced over, throwing her arms around the stocky Dwarf. 

 

Joryn returned the embrace, nearly crushing the air from her lungs.  Hawk slapped his shoulder heartily, ignoring the sting as he made contact with the chain mail over the boiled leather armour the Dwarf wore. “How did you survive?”

 

The Elf was caught in an incredulous look. “Think a small thing such as this would stop one who's lived most of his life within the Mother's womb?  I'm a Dwarf, lad.  A tiny rockslide is nothing to the likes of me.”  He glanced around, his rough humor falling from him.  “The others?”

 

Slow head shakes were his answer.  “We don't know.”

 

Myla perked up a bit as an idea came to her.  “They might be on the other trail.  Could you tunnel a path through this?”

 

Joryn ran a hand through his beard, dislodging small pebbles and rockdust. “I don't have the gift of tunnel-shaping like others in my clan do. What I've done was merely ... an innate survival skill.  It's not something I've ever been able to consciously operate.”

 

A pall once more fell over the group and the shadows began to deepen as the cliffwalls hid the slowly setting sun.

 

888

 

“Perfect.” Daryl's smile blossomed and the others nodded their approval.

 

888

 

Balen scrambled over the rock after the rabbit that was trying desperately not to become a meal.  Dashing around a corner in the trail, intent on his prey, he crashed headlong into a pair of spindly legs.  Man and wolf fell in a tangle of limbs, each voicing perplexed confusion at their predicament.  Amber eyes met muddy brown.

 

Coney rose to a crouch, but a wolfish grin full of sharp, white canines made him freeze.  Coney suddenly remembered the words of the mad half-elf he'd encountered. 'Tell me, little rabbit, will you taste as good as you look?'  A twinge of superstitious fear crept along his spine as the animal ran the tip of its tongue along its upper teeth. With a yelp, Coney dived to one side, grabbing a handful of dirt and pebbles.  As the wolf snapped at him, the thief tossed the debris at the wolf, a portion of his mind marveling at the accuracy of the throw, the rest intent on getting as far away from the animal as possible.

 

As the thief took off, a thin keening emanating from his throat, Balen pawed at his face in annoyance, 'Damned coward.'  For a moment, his instincts screamed at him to pursue the obvious prey – after all, it was running – but managed to curtail the chase before it began – Man flesh was taboo for the time being – and resumed searching for a more palatable meal.

 

888

 

“For the time being?” Rafe asked, nose wrinkled in distaste.  “Don't tell me Balen is cannibalistic?”

 

Blair's eyes were hidden for a moment as he turned his head and light flashed off his glasses.  The younger man shrugged.  “He's spent most of his life in the forest, usually as a wolf.  He's only been hanging out with Jaxon for a few years.”  He shrugged again, letting the thought trail off.  A slow smile crossed his face as his eyes were once again obscured by the glare.  He chuckled at Brian's shudder and rose to get another bag of chips, conscious of the speculative looks following him.

 

888

 


	4. Ch. 10-12 Sirens, Ogres, and Barrow Wights - Oh, my!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second and third puzzles pieces.

 

Chapter 10:

 

Silvercreek wasn't exactly as they had envisioned it.  Expecting a small town nestled against the mountains, they were unprepared to see the small prospering city that spread out before them as they cleared the mountain trail.  Fields lined the town's northern border, while thick, greasy smoke marked where the forges and smelters were situated along the south western border.  Obviously a mining town; but a self-sufficient one.  A rarity.

 

Jaxon and Rhianna had run ahead to locate the local constabulary.  A small contingent of guards followed them back.  Simond turned over the prisoners with a brief explanation of the situation: the attack, the explosion, and the resulting landslide.  Leading them into town, Captain Luicia, a sturdy woman in her mid-thirties, expressed her sympathy.  “Gods willing, your comrades felt no pain.”

 

Simon's voice was gruff in reply.  “Gods willing, they survived and will be returned to us shortly.”

 

The woman looked skeptical, but made no further discouraging remarks. “Are you planning on staying in Silvercreek for a spell?”

 

“A week.  No later.”

 

She nodded.  “We have a few inns you can chose from.  Not much in the way of entertainment.”  She paused.  “Plans will be made to clear the pass.  Any help you and your companions are willing to give would be greatly appreciated.”

 

The rest of the day was spent repairing equipment, resupplying, and praying.

 

8

 

Joryn woke abruptly at the muffled whimper emanating from their unwelcomed traveling companion.  Sitting up, one hand on his axe, the Dwarf felt his jaw drop open at the scene.  Myla sat crosslegged upon her sleeping mat, calmly regarding Kels with an indifferent expression, though the Dwarf though he detected a hint of a smile playing about her lips. Kels lay flat on his back a few feet away.  Standing over him, limbs akimbo, a large gray wolf menaced him – lips drawn back in a snarl, ears laid flat against its skull, amber-yellow eyes fixed upon the hapless human's own.

 

Joryn released his grip on the axe, recognizing the beast.  A quick glance showed Hawk missing.  “Where's the Elf?”

 

“He went to look for breakfast.”  Myla jerked her head, indicating direction.  “Gone a half candlemark already.  Wolf here showed up a few minutes ago – brought a rabbit.  Hawk can't find anything, least we won't go hungry.”

 

Joryn frowned at the staccato report, but before he could comment, Kels spoke up.  “The beast's enchanted.  Tell that witch to call it off.”

 

Myla focused her gaze on the man's face, smiling as he flinched.  “First – I'm a Cleric, not a Witch.  Second – who said I could control Wolf, even if I wanted to.  Third – I don't want to.  Behave yourself or your innards will decorate the rocks about us.”

 

Wolf snorted in what suspiciously sounded like laughter.  It started circling the hapless man, sniffing at his clothes, hair, and face, snarling when Kels brought his hands up defensively.

 

“I wouldn't move around so much if I were you.  You just might convince it that you were prey.  Hate to see new holes in ya so soon after patchin' you up.”

 

Wolf looked up questioningly.  Myla shook her head.  “I wouldn't chance it.  No telling what diseases he may have.  You'd be better off with the rabbit.”

 

“Who'd be better off with rabbit?” The thief rounded the path – a brace of rabbits over one shoulder.  He raised a brow at the wolf that appeared to be making itself comfortable in the middle of camp.  His mouth opened, but Joryn rushed in.  “Myla was trying a new spell and Called this wolf.  He seems pretty tame, but we should keep our guard up.”

 

Hawk blinked once, then nodded.  “How long will the spell last, Myla?”

 

She shot a grateful look his way.  “About twelve candlemarks.  I can recast it tonight, if necessary.”

 

888

 

“Very, very devious,” Simon approved.  “I see all your undercover experiences come in handy.”

 

888

 

Breakfast was eaten in silence and their makeshift camp was quickly broken down.  Within minutes they continued down the path.  Joryn consulted the puzzle box map.  “We should be at the lake by this evening, barring complications.”

 

By mid-afternoon, they hit a bit of luck, and found one of the horses from their group grazing on a patch of grass.  Dried blood revealed only small nicks and scrapes along the animals' flanks and withers. It nervously shied away from Wolf, but Hawk – one of the best horse-thieves in Cadecas – soon had the beast calmed.  Saddlebags still hung off the saddle, the contents battered, but salvageable.

 

Hawk rode, for Myla wanted to talk with Wolf and it wouldn't be nice to upset the horse unduly.  Joryn was just as happy to let someone else handle the temperamental beast and it would be stupid to allow the prisoner to ride and perhaps escape.

 

As Balen couldn't speak in Wolf form, Myla cast SPEAK WITH ANIMALS. “Did any of the others survive?” Myla questioned, her voice hopeful.

 

Balen shook his shaggy head, managing to convey a shrug.  ~Not in the direction I went.  Knutim and several of his cronies escaped and I spotted at least five horses running off – though whether they were ours or theirs, I couldn't tell.~

 

“Joryn says that our path leads to a lake where our next puzzle piece is and then curves around to a town.  If they made it through the landslide, they'd have to go there.  Is there anyway you can get a message to them or find out where they are?”

 

The wolf padded alongside the Cleric in silence for a moment.  ~I might be able to Call a bird to fly over the area – use its eyes as my own.  But the range is real limited and the amount I can get it to do depends greatly on the bird's own intelligence.~

 

“How long will you need to cast the spell?”

 

Again there was a long silence before a response.  ~At least four candlemarks to sleep and gather strength.  Two candlemarks of preparation time and one candlemark to cast the spell.  If it's successful, I'll have use of the creature between two to four candlemarks before the spell expires.~  Yellow-gold eyes flickered towards Kels, then back to Myla.  ~I'll have to assume True-shape before I can cast.  Can't do that spell in this Form.~

 

“Understood. I'll make sure he's not in the way.”

 

888

 

“Nothing permanent, I hope?” Joel asked as another stretch break was called.

 

“Hell, the man was part of the possible deaths of her friends.  Seems to me, he deserves any unpleasantness she chooses to dish out.”  Rhonda nodded decisively before heading toward the bathroom.

 

The room was quiet – broken only by Blair's soft chuckling.

 

“What's so funny?” Jim demanded.

 

“Man, you should see your faces.”

 

“Well, you have to admit, hearing that from her is a bit shocking, Hairboy.”

 

Blair cocked his head to one side, regarding H steadily.  “Why? Because she's a girl?  Wouldn't hold that opinion with Megan around if I were you.  Because she's only a secretary and not a cop?”  He shook his head, a wry grin tugging at his mouth.  “That secretary is a black belt in at least two separate martial art forms.  She's more than capable of taking care of herself and anyone else.”  He moved off toward the kitchen, leaving the others to think.

 

888

 

“I think we should head around the lake.  If we leave now, we can arrive in two day's time.  If any of them survived, that would be the most logical destination.  It's the only source of fresh water if the Druid didn't survive.”  Heron cast an apologetic look toward Jaxon, but continued.  “And if they're too injured to make it – it means we're that much closer to them for a rescue.”  He paused, then murmured quietly, “They'd do no less for us if they thought there was any hope.”

 

No one disagreed and preparations for the journey were quickly undertaken.  Captain Luicia approached the companions as they readied their mounts.  “Leaving so soon? I had hoped you would be willing to help us open the pass.”  Her tone was mildly accusative, though her sharp brown eyes had noted the number of healing kits strapped to the saddles.

 

Simond nodded.  “I know.  And we are not abandoning you.  This mess is as much our fault as the those we turned in.  But we cannot blithely continue on without ascertaining for ourselves the fate of our comrades.”

 

888

 

“Wow, Captain.  That was deep.” Rafe stared wide-eyed at Simon, a hint of laughter in his eyes.

 

“Oh, hush.”

 

888

 

Captain Luicia offered to have a few of her own guard accompany them and when they politely declined she provided them with shovels and pickaxes ... “Just in case.” ... Wishing them good luck, she returned to her own preparations.

 

“Mister? Hey, Mister?” the piping voice accompanied an insistent tugging at Simond's sleeve.  A rosey-cheeked face stared solemnly up at the tall Paladin.  Tousled fair hair, untucked tunic and dusty breeches gave the illusion of an innocent street-child.  The furry mat of hair adorning leather calloused feet told another story.  “I wouldn't go to that lake if I was you and if yer friends went there I wouldn't be expecting them back, neither.”

 

Simond glanced sharply down at the Halfling, his unconscious scowl causing the small being to back up warily.  “Why?”

 

“Sumptin in that lake.  Gots a ferocious appetite, it does.  Worth yer life to travel past it.”

 

“Do you know what it is?”

 

The Halfling shuffled his balance upon the balls of his feet, bobbing slightly in agitation.  “Nope.  Just that there's a reason the townfolk cut a path through solid rock rather than take the easy route 'round.”  Green eyes darted from the Paladin's face to the waiting horses and back again.  “Wouldn't go if I was you.”  He made a clicking noise in the back of this throat, shook his head, then darted off, quickly disappearing around a corner.

 

Rianna handed Simond an apple.  “What was that about?”

 

The large man shook his head, “Something about a creature in the lake.”

 

“Think he was telling the truth?”

 

“I don't know.  But I, for one, will feel better when we find the others.”

 

888

 

“If you have any type of folk lore or legend lore I need you to roll percentile; the higher, the better.”  Daryl drew his pad of paper closer, readied his pencil and waited.

 

Jim rolled. “Forty-two.”

 

“You've heard that some lakes may be homes to water sprites, pookhas, lake serpents and the like, but you've never heard anything about this particular lake.”

 

“Seventy-nine,” Henri grinned.  “What do I know?”

 

“That's a loaded question,” Rafe snickered, dodging a swat from his partner.

 

“Wise ass.”

 

Rafe gave a mock-bow from his seat. “Thank you, kind sir.”

 

Daryl rolled his eyes.  “There have been stories of people traveling past the lake and disappearing.  Bones had been found, but as all other gear had vanished, it's assumed that there's a troupe of bandits working the are.”

 

“Taking all the gear? Unlikely.  Most bandits won't bother with clothing or other worthless items.”  Blair commented from the floor.”

 

“Hush,” Daryl raised one finger.

 

“Sorry. Sorry.” Blair clapped one hand over his mouth.  With a grin, Jim reached down and placed his hand over his partner's.  “I got 'em.” That caused a laugh before the Dungeon Master turned to Rhonda.

 

She rolled her dice and groaned.  “My dice hate me.  Five.”  She shrugged and smiled wryly.  “Monsters live in lakes?  How do they breathe?”

 

“Okay,” Daryl jotted something down.  “You start on your journey.  Do you stop for the night, or continue on?”

 

“What's the sky like?” Jim asked. 

“It's a quarter moon, but overcast.  It might rain later tonight.”

 

“The path?” Simon asked.

 

“Rocky and overgrown.  Not many people come this way anymore.  You've already had to circumvent several gopher holes.”

 

“We camp.” Rhonda decided.

 

“You setting a watch?”

 

“Rianna, Heron, Simond and myself.” Jim stated.

 

“Why does Rianna get first watch?” H asked.

 

“I need eight hours of sleep in order to study my spells.”

 

Daryl rolled several dice in succession.  “You're in luck.  The evening passed uneventfully.  It's started to rain.”  He raised a hand. “Okay.  I'm going to leave you there and get back to the other group.”

 

888

 

Kels glanced over his shoulder, jumpy.  “Where's that wolf of yours?”

 

Myla raised a brow.  “Why?  Afraid he'll think you'd make a good snack while your back is turned?”  She laughed as the man shuddered. “It's out scouting. We'll see it again sometime tomorrow.”

 

Joryn paced nearer, a questioning look on his face.  Myla waited until the ruffian had moved away before answering.  “He went to see if he could get a bird's eye view on the situation.  See if any of the others are alive.”

 

“Can he do that?”

 

“He's going to try.”

 

8

 

Balen settled himself against a tree trunk, readying his spell.  It had been a risk to sleep without the benefit of the others watching his back – strange how easily he'd come to trusting these beings – but it had been necessary.  Closing his eyes he centered himself, the words of the spell flowing easily from his lips.  He cast his mind outward, searching for a suitable bird that he could 'piggyback' his consciousness to.  He needed to ascertain the outcome of the others. He was in luck, a raven was nearby.  He received permission to share a ride and directed the bird's flight back over the site of the landslide and the other path.

 

8

 

At first, Hawk ignored the raven.  It wasn't unusual for birds to be in the area, but as it began hopping from branch to branch, keeping just ahead of the group, he began paying a bit more attention.  “Hey, Jaxon.  Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but birds don't usually behave like that, right?”

 

The Ranger looked up from the map he'd acquired in town, noticing the raven as well.  “No.  Not of their own volition.”

 

Simond studied the younger man.  “What's going on, Jaxon?”

 

“I'm not sure.”  Jaxon watched the bird with a frown, but before he could urge his mount closer, the raven flew off with a hoarse cry and a sudden flurry of feathers.  “Damn.”

 

“What's wrong?” Rianna was puzzled.

 

“The bird was being controlled.  But I couldn't tell if it was friend or foe.”

 

“Balen?” Simond hazard.

 

“I hope so.”

 

8

 

“Damn.” Balen's yellow gold eyes snapped open as his connection with the raven was lost.  Being only a passenger, he could only give suggestions as to the direction of the raven's flight.  He'd lost valuable time when the bird's stomach overruled his desire to check out the trail.  He had been unable to let Jaxon know that he and the others were alive, but at least he knew everyone else had survived the landslide.  He needed a few minutes to rest from his exertions and then he'd return to Myla, Hawk, and Joryn.

 

888

 

Ring Ring Ring

 

The group jumped as the phone in Simon's pocket brazenly rang out.  With a sigh, the Captain pulled the device out.  “Banks.”

 

An exasperated frown crossed his features.  “What part of 'off duty' didn't you get?  Morgan's in charge this weekend, tell him.  And if something happened to him then call Jackson.  I'm spending time with my son.  Understood?  Good.”  With a decisive movement he snapped the phone closed and looked up to nine sets of surprised faces. “What?”

 

Blair grinned, “Never thought I'd see the day.  Well done, Cap.”

Before he could retort, Daryl lay a hand on his father's shoulder, a smile upon his face.  “Thanks, dad.”

 

Simon grumbled a bit, “I'm not that bad.

 

The rest nodded, “Yes, you are.”

 

Mood broken for a moment, they took the opportunity to stretch, grab snacks and drinks, and use the facilities.  “Alright,” Daryl pulled his feet up to sit cross-legged.  “We're going to jump ahead a bit...”

 

888

 

Chapter 11:

 

Myla felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end as a sound reached her ears.  It made her shift uncomfortably and roll her shoulders, trying to release the tension.  Glancing at her companions, she noticed Joryn had a slightly dreamy look in his eyes and a soft smile tugged at his lips.  Their prisoner, however, tugged at his tether, his face a mixture of lust and desire as he scrambled to follow the voice on the breeze. Hawk had a positively lecherous look upon his face and he tugged at the reins to urge the horse faster; the horse tossed its head in agitation.  Balen's ears twitched and his ruff stood on end, head cocked, looking as if he was trying to remember something.

 

The sound became louder as they rounded the mountain.  Kels yanked the rope from Joryn's slack grasp and took off running.  “I'm coming! I'm coming!”

 

“Hey!” Myla snapped, her nerves taut with tension; irritation surging through her.

 

“Relax. It's all good.” Joryn began to lightly jog after Kels.  “C'mon.”

 

“What the hell?” Myla felt the irritation turn to rage at this … this .. MALE.  Pulling a dagger, she dew her arm back, ready to throw it at the unsuspecting Dwarf's back.  She crashed to the ground in a tumble of limbs and fur;  Balen's growl reverberating in her ears. Her head slammed against the ground, making her see stars and cause her ears to ring, drowning out the noise which had set her teeth on edge.

 

The struggle between Cleric and Wolf further agitated Hawk's already skittish mount. With a shrill neigh it bucked the Elf off its back and raced away from where Woman and Wolf crouched.

 

Hawk's landed awkwardly, his normally fluid grace momentarily abandoning him. By the time he regained his feet he noticed Kels already at the water's edge with Joryn not far behind him.  He skirted around Myla and Balen heading for the source of the beautiful sound.

 

Swearing, Myla pushed herself up onto her elbows, then froze at the very white, very sharp teeth that filled her vision.  A shiver of fear chased away the rest of her rage.  “Balen?” she whispered, hoping that whatever had affected her hadn't also made Balen want to rip her throat out.

 

888

 

“You wouldn't really rip my throat out, would you Blair?”

 

All she got was a feral grin in response.

 

888

 

Head clear once more, and with a heart-felt prayer for protection, Myla chased after Joryn, who had made it out of sight already; Balen at her heels.

 

Cresting a hill, the cleric saw a medium-sized lake.  A tiny island in the center.  The irritating sound was coming from a figure sitting on a rock midway between island and shore.  Joryn was making slow but steady progress toward the water. Kels was knee deep and with an audible 'whoop', he dived into the water, swimming toward the figure.

 

888

 

“Megan, we're going to pause.  Rhonda? ...”

 

888

 

Rianna suppressed a snarl as the sound shot through her head, feeling like an itch in her brain.  She slowed a bit, shaking her head, recognizing that the rising irritation and rage were not her own. The men, however, had increased their pace, desire replacing intelligence.

 

Before them lay a lake, the man now pushing at each other trying to be the first to get to the water.

 

Irritation rose again and the mage fought the strong urge to blast them with a fireball.

 

There was someone already in the water swimming toward the noisemaker, Joryn near the water's edge.  To her left, Rianna spotted Hawk jogging down the trail.  Myla and a wolf who could only be Balen, racing after.

 

The man was nearly to the rock when the water seemed to churn around him. Taking no notice, enchanted by the song, the man continued swimming.

 

The figure – a beautiful woman, golden hair cascading down her back and half-concealing her nakedness reached for the man, her voice taking on a more seductive tone which made the Mage wince.

 

With a suddenness that startled the Mage, tentacles grasped hold at the man and tore him apart in a flurry of limbs and blood.  Bits of red cloth from his tunic flew amidst the bloody pieces.  Rianna nearly gagged as the fair-haired maid scooped a chunk from the water and bit into it with a satisfied moan of ecstasy.

 

888

 

“Daryl!” Simon complained.

 

Daryl blinked, a glint of evil mirth in his eyes.  “What?”

 

888

 

Rianna came to a halt, shocked by the gruesome death.  But the men continued to shove their way toward the lake, acting as if they hadn't even noticed the previous man's messy demise.  A scowl upon her face, she debated a long moment whether to leave them to their fate.  As men, they should be able to control themselves.  Rianna took a deep breath, her training as a Mage asserting itself allowing her to push aside the artificial emotion.  Before they reached the water, Rianna cast 'Sleep' and the men collapsed like marionettes with their strings cut.

 

Rianna and Myla drifted closer to one another exchanging wry glances.  Balen trotted over to Joryn, grasped a portion of his shoulder armor and slowly dragged the Dwarf away from the shoreline.  Blinking, it took the girls a moment, as the noise was becoming grating, to recognize the significance of Balen's actions.  A flash of tentacle got them moving and soon the rest of the party was safely out of harms way.

 

“What is that?” Myla growled, having a hard time controlling her temper, even after realizing that it was the noise causing the irrational feelings.

 

“It's a Siren.” Balen transformed from his wolf-shape, his body tense and his eyes flashed yellow-gold.  “I'm not sure how it got here, though.  They're salt water creatures.”

 

“And the tentacles?” Rianna asked fascinated despite the near constant grating upon her ears.

 

“The Siren.  They project that which you most desire, or, in the case of women, that which annoys you the most in other females.  They're half-humanoid and half-sea creature.  This one is octopus, or kracken.”

 

The women nodded, it explained what they saw.  Myla shot a side look at the half-elf. “What do you see?”

 

A feral grin.  “Calamari.”

 

888

 

Rhonda snickered, “Calamari.” The snicker turned into a giggle, the giggle morphed into a laugh until she was holding her sides.  The others joined in while Blair watched them bemusedly, a fond smile upon his lips.  The echoes finally die down.

 

“So, how do we kill the thing?” Jim asked.

 

“What 'we', white man?” Blair intoned.  “You're asleep remember?”

 

“So, we can't do anything to help?” Rafe grimaced.  “Can't you do something? I'd rather not stay asleep for the entire fight.”

 

“If you're awake, you'll be drawn to the Siren.  We can't kill her while trying to keep you guys safe, too.” Rhonda argued.

 

“What if we can't hear her?” Joel asked.  “It's her voice that's causing the problem, right?”

 

“No ideas, Joel,” Daryl chastised.  “Remember?  Blair couldn't give ideas to the group when his character wasn't there.  You can't either if you're unconscious.”

 

Megan leaned forward, “He's got a point, though.  If we block the sound, then we can wake the guys up.  Anyone have cotton or wax?”

 

Blair shook his head.  “Won't work.  It's magical – it'll go straight through physical impediments.”

 

“So, let's see what spells we have.”  The three magic users flipped through their characters sheets.

 

888

 

Myla moved to the edge of the lake keeping a careful eye out for any tentacles and cast 'Silence' upon the Siren.

 

Mocking laughter was the response, “As weak as you are ugly, I see.” A vicious smile crossed the creature's features.

 

888

 

“Okay. Wait a minute.  What do you mean it didn't work? And 'as weak as you are ugly'?  Daryl!”

 

Hands up in surrender, Daryl grinned sheepishly. “It's in character. Besides, you'll figure out why it didn't work in a minute.”

 

Megan huffed, but nodded after getting a celery stick.  “Well, okay then.”

 

888

 

“We're not going to be able to drag them out of here on our own.  The pathway is too close to the water,” Balen pointed out.  “They're going to have to move under their own power.”

 

After some discussion, Myla placed a length of gauze on a rock twenty feet away and cast 'Silence', again.  Moving forward, she nodded it had worked and began tearing the cloth into smaller strips. One by one, Balen and Rianna woke the others, briefly explained the situation, and pushed them toward Myla, who tied the gauze to some part of their armor, effectively preventing them from hearing anything.  Somewhat shamefaced, the men readied themselves to battle the Siren.  They couldn't let the creature continue preying upon the travelers in the area, especially as this was the only open route now for the village.   The three Magic users placed themselves outside the influence of the spell.

 

The Siren stared at them, a condescending smile upon her lips. “Many have tried to defeat me, none ever have.  Tire yourselves out all you will. I'll enjoy sucking the marrow from your bones.”  She began singing.  She might not be able to lure the men to her, but she could cause the women to turn upon their teammates.  Both Cleric and Mage shuddered as the sound ripped through them like white-hot knives. Irritation, rage, a hatred of all things MALE swamped them in a deadly wave of emotion.  Myla shrieked as she took a swing at Balen with her weapon.  Ducking and weaving, the Druid maneuvered her into the sphere of silence.  Simond wrapped his arms around her, pinning her hands down at her side and held her while she raged.  The cessation of noise quickly brought her around.  She shook herself free, face red in embarrassment and anger, but stayed by his side.

 

Rianna stood shaking, battling her emotions, her magic trying to reach out to harm the men.  Concentrating so hard on not blasting the others, she didn't notice the tentacle that rose from the water and slammed into her.  Falling to the ground, Rianna twisted and cast a fireball at the Siren. The blast washed over the rock, but the Siren had slipped into the water.

 

Water bubbled and churned as the Siren swam toward shore, her numerous tentacles sweeping across the beach, trying to knock the party down like a set of tenpins.

 

Jaxon rushed forward, ducking beneath a limb, and pulled Rianna to her feet, moving her out of the way of another swing.

 

As one large appendage struck the ground beside him, Simond thrust downward through the tentacle and into the hard packed ground.  The sword glowed a moment and the Siren silently screeched in pain as the holy weapon pinned the creature.

 

The Siren flailed about in pain and anger.  Joryn stomped forward, a powerful blow from his warhammer actually caused a tentacle to separate. In disgust, he spat  upon the limb as it spasmed on the sand.

 

Heron slammed into anything that came near with powerful blows of his battle ax.  A wild blow caught him on the shoulder, only making him grimace as he switched his grip.

 

A glint of gold caught Hawk's attention.  A finely wrought necklace swung from the Siren's neck. Intuition told him it was important. Centering himself, he pulled back on his bow and let loose an arrow. The arrow flew through the air, caught the chain between two of its' links, and yanked it completely off to splash into the water and sink into it's murky depths.

 

A flash of light permeated the area.  The Siren looked … smaller somehow..  less … sparkly and spectacular, but was no less dangerous as he soon discovered.  A tentacle caught him in the midsection and tossed him several feet, slamming him against the cliff wall. He slumped, dazed.

 

Balen darted to the side, placed a hand in the water, cast a spell, and dashed back into the fray.

 

In the meantime, Simond pulled a second weapon, leaving the first to keep the Siren from retreating deeper into the water, slicing into other limbs.  Blood poured into the water from all the wounds inflicted.

 

Hawk peppered the Siren's torso with arrows, smirking in satisfaction as each sank deeply, even as he winced at the marring of such beauty.

 

Suddenly, the Siren began jerking and spasming, her wails taking on a panicked note.  The water around her was tinged a deep red and small forms darted to and fro around the weakening creature.  Jaxon glanced sharply at Balen, who had a positively evil grin upon his face.  The half-elf caught his glance and mouthed, 'Piranha'.

 

888

 

“Ewww..” Rhonda shuddered.  “I hate piranha.”

 

Megan nodded, “I've seen a school strip the flesh from a cow in less than three minutes.”

 

“There's a few at the Cascade Zoo,” Rafe nodded. “I was at the aquarium with a date and watched them. At first, they were just swimming about.  Then a group of kids came in and the whole lot of them lined up in front of the glass as if preparing to attack.  Freakiest thing I ever saw.”

 

“I've seen them do that, too.,” Daryl interjected.  “I thought it was a fluke.”  Everyone grabbed something to nibble on and focused on the DM.  “The Siren shudders for a bit, but she's definitely dead.  The spell that summoned the piranha has expired, however with such a bountiful meal before them, they don't look like they're leaving the area anytime soon.  There are no boats in the vicinity and the island that the map indicates has the next puzzle piece is in the exact center of the lake – the distance to far to jump.  What do you do?”

 

888

 

Not sure what they'd find, the entire company chose to check the island. Using nearby trees – and a few minor spells – they created two rafts.  They were a bit rough shod, but sturdy and would easily manage the short trip there and back.

 

Taking the rafts across the water, they tried to ignore the swarming fish and floating... bits... that used to be a living creature.  The island had a narrow beach littered with shells and bones.  They followed a faint trail into the trees.  Eyes alert, weapons at the ready, tension was high as no sound could be heard.  No bird song, no rustling of foliage from small animals, no buzz of insects.  Sweat dripped down their faces as they followed the map which led them to what looked like a deep gash in the earth.  Simond, Heron, and Hawk approached the opening. Standing stock-still the men scanned the entrance to the cave.  Did the ground seem a touch too even?  Where the cracks along the edge a tad too regular?  Was that an odd gleam that sparkled in the air?

 

Hawk reached down and palmed a handful of loose soil with one and and a largish rock in the other.  “Take five steps back and three to the left.”  Readily obeying the two waited with bated breath.  The professional thief gauged the distance and with an easy underhand toss lobbed the rock onto the threshold of the cave.  Nothing.  He took a few steps closer and tossed the dirt in.  A sunbeam illuminated the dust but revealed nothing more.  “I think it's clear.”

 

“You think?”

 

Hawk shrugged, “Well, the entrance is clear.  I'd stay alert, just in case.  But, the Siren couldn't have made use of the cave.  It's too far inland and Sirens are water-bound.”

 

Heron nodded, “And I see no spoor or print of any other creature. Nothing has made this cave its home.”  Bracing themselves they eased their way into the cave, having to proceed in single file. Both Heron and Simond had to turn sideways and sidestep inward. Passing the sunbeam, they noticed it was nearly impossible to see.

 

The elf took a short rod out of a pouch and gave it a decisive twist. With a soft click the rod emanated a gentle glow that illuminated without blinding.  The crevice sloped downward and curved to the right narrowing as it went.

 

“If it gets any narrower, we won't be able to continue,” Simond rumbled.

 

“Well, we're practically right on top of it.  If we can't, we'll head back and see if Balen can make it in his wolf form.”

 

At the bend, the tunnel widened, relieving their concerns.  They quickly came to a dead-end.  Hawk gave a low hum of satisfaction; the puzzle piece lay negligently off to one-side, detritus half-concealing the object of their search.

 

“A bit anti-climatic, don't you think?” Heron reached and scooped the item up in one massive fist.

 

“Wait...” Hawk yelled

 

888

 

The DM grinned, “Too late...”

 

888

 

An ominous rumble sounded.  Eyes wide and faces paling, the three men rushed back the way they came, trusting to their instincts and conditioning to keep from tripping over their feet as the ceiling began to shake loose.

 

8

 

Th ground rumbled, violently tossing everyone off their feet.  Five sets of eyes anxiously watched the entrance to the cave, wincing as the minor quake caused the cave's ceiling to crack and buckle.

 

8

 

Hawk dived out of the ace, tumbling clear of falling debris.

 

Heron wasn't as lucky. Several rocks drove the barbarian to the ground, half burying the large man.

 

Of Simond there was no sign.

 

888

 

Daryl grinned madly as the others stared wide-eyed at each other.

 

888

 

Joryn raced to the cave entrance, arriving first. Sensing the quake had been unnatural, he cautioned everyone. “Let me check first. If the roof collapses, we don't want everyone in here.”

 

Balen and Rianna helped Hawk to his feet. “You okay?”

 

Hawk nodded, disgusted with himself.  “Found the puzzle piece. Heron has it. Picking it up set off the trap. I knew it seemed too simple.” He watched as Joryn waved them in.  “Is Heron alright?”

 

“He's got a nasty bump on his head. Right leg is damaged, though I can't tell if it's broken. For now, everything's stable. We can dig him out. But we should hurry.”

 

The company descended upon the downed man, quickly but gently removing the rocks that had him pinned.  Balen, Hawk, Rianna, and Myla carried the injured man out of the cave and beneath a tree to see to his wounds.

 

Jaxon moved to Joryn's side. “Can you sense him?”

 

The Dwarf turned serious eyes up at the Range. “No. My abilities don't work that way. Simond could be a few feet away, or several yards. We're just going to have to dig him out. And soon.”

 

Nodding, Jaxon knelt by the rockslide. “Then we had better get started.” The two began removing the obstacles.

 

888

 

“Okay. Megan is able to heal Heron. What do you do now?”

 

“We head back into the cave to help dig out Simon's character.” Rhonda leaned forward in her seat.

 

Megan nodded. “With all of us moving rocks like a conveyor belt, we can clear the area quicker than the two of them alone.”

 

“Sounds good. Dad, unfortunately, you're unconscious.” Daryl rolled his dice and winced. “Actually, that's a good thing.”

 

“How is that good?” Simon asked, puzzled.

 

“The area you're in is very small and precarious. Any moving on your part would bring more rock on you and use up your air. As it is, you landed face first, so that protected you from chocking on dust.” He rolled another die. “It'll take three candlemarks to reach Simond.”

 

888

 

Using Joryn's expertise, the company worked steadily for several hours. At one point, they cut down a few trees to use as braces to keep boulders and dirt from filling the area they were trying to desperately clear. Periodically, they'd pause and call to the Paladin, hoping to hear a response. Each prayed they wouldn't end up recovering a corpse.

 

A lax hand, gray with dust, was uncovered first. Redoubling their efforts, they soon had the Paladin's still form freed from the rocks. Myla skimmed her hand just over his body, assessing the damage. The news was grim. “He's suffering from a skull fracture, broken ribs, a punctured lung, internal bleeding and blood loss. Had it taken longer, we would have lost him.” She looked over at both Balen and Rianna. “I'm going to need your help. I can't heal everything on my own.”

 

The three magic users surrounded the Paladin, each adding their energies to the downed man. Several tense minutes later, woozy but triumphant, they grinned as Simond groaned and opened his eyes.

 

888

 

Chapter 12:

 

“We'll skip ahead a bit. All three magic users are wiped, but no one wants to stay here longer than necessary. You return to the city of Silvercreek. It takes a bit longer due to fatigue and recovering from injuries. Captain Luicia is pleased to know that they aren't completely cut off as feared. She dispatches runners to their trading posts to let them know of the change. She no longer expects you to help excavate the collapsed pathway since you made safe the alternate route. A small group go to explore the island – treasure hunters. They find an alcove just below the water's surface that has years of accumulated gear the Siren had horded. Most is useless due to water damage, but what the city agrees to give you a portion of what's salvageable for your efforts.

 

“Four days later, you're completely recovered and you've been able to reprovision.

 

“The puzzle box shows the next piece to be a week's journey to the northwest, heading toward the sea.

 

“From what Balen overheard, Knutim and the rest of his men plan to return to the last city to send word to Sweddars about the situation and await further instructions. Rafe, your character isn't surprised that Sweddars went after the puzzlebox, just that it took so long for his men to catch up to you. With the mountain range between them and you, you aren't sure the Guild Master would put forth more effort. However, the size of your party would alert Sweddars to the fact that the box is much more than it originally appeared.”

 

“So, we could expect more action from that quarter?”

 

“It's a reasonable assumption. I wouldn't rule out the possibility.”

 

“Are we able to purchase new horses?” Rhonda asked, rising from her seat to fetch a glass of water.  The others also began moving about, stretching limbs and raiding the kitchen for a pre-lunch snack.

 

“Yes. As well as an extra for baggage. “ Daryl smiled as Jim handed him small plate of chips and a drink.

 

888

 

Scouting ahead, Jaxon eased back to the rest of the group, a thoughtful look upon his face.

 

“Jaxon?” Simond rumbled.

 

“There's a small village at the spot indicated by the map. Looks pretty peaceful.”

 

“So, what's the problem?” Heron looked up from rummaging through his pack. “If they're peaceful, maybe we can trade for the piece, or even buy it.”

 

“They're mostly Ogres.”

 

Hawk and Rianna scowled while Balen winced. To say that Ogres and Elves did not get along would be an understatement – the two races had long enmity between them. Hawk shifted his pack. “Perhaps it would be best if some of us stay behind. If they are peaceful, there's no need to rile them up. We could stay near the perimeter: far enough away that we won't be noticed, but close enough to help if it becomes necessary.”

 

“Sounds reasonable.” Simond rose to his feet. “If we can get in and get out without bloodshed, that would be best. Joryn? What about you? Coming or staying?”

 

“I'll stay. It might be easier for you if you don't have me as a distraction.”

 

8

 

The four humans kept their weapons sheathed, but their eyes sharp for trouble as they neared the small collection of buildings.  An Ogre of significant height – towering over even Heron – stepped into their path, his battle ax at the ready. “State your business.”

 

“We're traveling northwest. We spotted your village and hoped to trade for supplies,” Jaxon answered mildly, making no aggressive movements.

 

The Ogre raked his gaze over the troupe, eyes lingering on Simond's crest and the holy symbol Myla wore about her neck. The being's posture relaxed minutely. “As long as you have peaceful intentions our Chief will welcome you.” He gestured and another Ogre came out of the shadows. “Take the watch. I'll escort them to our Chief.”  He motioned for them to follow, staying silent as the moved through town.

 

As they traveled, silence seemed to ripple outward through the town as their presence was made known. Childish laughter quieted suddenly; normal conversations dropped to murmurs; it felt like everyone was holding their breath, waiting to see what would happen next. Jaxon spotted figures standing in doorways and at windows, watching the strangers with wary, suspicion-filled eyes. He noted with interest both humans and half-breeds among the inhabitants and understood their hesitance. The others were hard pressed not to let their mounting uneasiness show.

 

Their escort led them to a modest two story home near the center of town. “My Chief. These are Travelers who would like to trade for supplies.”

 

An old female Ogre, her shoulder length hair more white than black, gazed sharply upon them from her front stoop. “Come.” She waved off the guard and ushered the travelers into a small modestly appointed room. “What do you have? What do you need?” Her gruff, no nonsense tone, nonetheless relaxed the four; she was willing to hear them out.

 

“Provisions if you're willing to do business with us,” Heron spoke up. “Fresh bread and meat. Jerky. A keg or two of small beer.”

 

The Ogress tilted her head. “We're a small community. We don't have much to do with strangers. For obvious reasons, our village lies well off the beaten track; no one comes here without a specific purpose. Speak up.”

 

After exchanging a glance with the others, Myla decided honesty was the best policy. “We're searching for part of a map. Our research has led us here. We're willing to trade for or purchase the item. We have some gemstones, a set of master-worked knives, a few manuscripts, and I can offer healing services if needed.”

 

Dark eyes sharpened, gauging the cleric's sincerity. Some of the wariness dissipated. “A map piece, you say? Must be important to come all this way.” Amusement shown as Heron shifted uncomfortably. “Angeria is the only one I know who'd bother hanging on to such a thing. The manuscripts might be enough to entice Angeria into parting with a map or two, though there's no telling what will catch his fancy from one day to the next; he's not all there, anymore.” A flash of sadness crossed her face. “At the moment we have no need of gemstones or weaponry.  As for healing – no one is currently injured or ill; though I thank you for your generous offer. Not many would.”

 

“May we speak with Angeria?”

 

“We'll see if he's accepting visitors today. Come.” She led them several streets over to a small home. “Angeria? I have travelers wishing to speak with you.”

 

“Come,” came a gravelly voice.

 

Except for two doorways, shelves lined the entire room, crammed with books, scrolls, and hand sewn manuscripts. Two large tables dominated the room where maps and other papers littered the surface. A human in his late fifties stood leaning over one of the maps; he glanced up with a scowl.  “What the ruddy hell do you want, Virianna?”

 

Not taking offense at the biting question, the Ogress gestured at the others. “They're looking for a map piece. They say it's somewhere nearby. I figured if you didn't already have it, then you might know where it is.”

 

Angeria's face twisted, features flushed with rage. “You know I have no time for...” He blinked, then blinked again as he took in the four humans.  “A Cleric and a Paladin.  Well, well.”  Some dark emotion flashed in the man's eyes before he refocused upon them. “What kind of map piece?”  He nodded at the description. “Oh. Yes. I have that. Wasn't too sure what it was for: the piece too small to truly get an idea of location, but pretty enough not to throw away. You can have it.”

 

Jaxon narrowed his eyes. “In exchange for?”

 

“Our cleric died eight moons ago. In that time a barrow wight made its home nearby. We've lost six able-bodied warriors ...” he paused, grief flooding his face so intensely it struck a chord within the others, “... and two children.” Practically glaring he stated his condition. “If your gods can rid us of the wight, you can have the map piece, and anything else I own.”

 

Without hesitation, Simond nodded his agreement. “Which direction?”

 

The mad human flung a map at them, “Less than one candlemark due west.”

 

8

 

Virianna led the subdued group back to her home. “The wight took Angeria's only child seven moons ago. Since then, he's been desperate to find a way to destroy the creature. This is the most lucid I've seen him since the incident.”

 

“We have four other companions camping outside the village,” Simond ventured. “We'd like permission for them to join us so we can plan our next move.”

 

“Why did they not come in with you?”

 

“They're two Elves, a Half-Elf, and a Dwarf. We didn't want to cause any undue stress when we saw that your populous consisted of Ogres, Humans, and Half-Ogres.”

 

Respect flashed in dark eyes. “I thank you for your consideration. Some of the people here are past victims of prejudice; some escaping death by the skin of their teeth. Had the Elves accompanied you initially, you would never have been allowed into the village.  Permission granted. I'll have one of my guards accompany one of you in fetching them.”

 

8

 

Less than half an hour later, all eight companions were settled around a large table, planning out their strategy.

 

888

 

Joel leaned back in his chair, head cocked. “What is a barrow wight?”

 

Daryl grinned. “Let's find out. Everyone roll for Lore.”

 

The clatter of dice on wood sounded throughout the room.

 

“Who rolled a 16 or higher?” Joel, Jim, and Rafe all raised their hands. “Okay, you know that barrow wights are undead creatures that occupy tombs and crypts and hate the living.  11 to 15?” Rhonda and Henri raised their hands. “Being undead and unnatural, you know that animals can sense their presence. Plant life around their lair will wither and die. Wights hate sunlight, though they aren't harmed by it like a vampire would be.  6 to 10?” Blair and Megan raise their hands. “Wights aren't affected by 'sleep', 'charm', 'hold', cold-based spells, poisons or paralyzing attacks. What did you roll, Dad?”

 

“A three.”

 

“You remember being told that wights drain energy – that would be both hit points and levels – so you don't want to get hit. Any humanoid creature killed through the energy drain will become a wight. Once a wight, it's nearly impossible to reverse the condition.”

 

Simon blinked. “So, we might actually have nine wights to fight? Two of them children?”

 

“Possibly.” The entire group looked ill. “If that's the case, you'll want to destroy the lesser ones first. They don't have as many hit points or powers as long as they're still in thrall to the one that created them. Once the head wight dies, they're released and become much more powerful.”

 

“Woof,” Henri sighed. “So, how do we defeat them?”

 

888

 

“Barrow wights are notoriously difficult to destroy,” Simond gravely informed the others. “They cannot be injured by any weapon that is not forged from silver or enchanted in some manner.”

 

“Holy water is deadly to them, as well,” Balen added.

 

“A 'raise dead' spell is instantly fatal. The only problem with it is it takes so long to cast and I can only cast it twice before my energy is drained.” Myla chewed on her bottom lip. “I'd rather save it for the leader and only after we destroy the others.”

 

“If the children were transformed into wights, Dispelling them would be the kindest thing we can do. I know that they aren't truly children anymore, but I don't know if I could live with myself if I had to attack them.” Simonds' quiet voice had them all nod in acknowledgment.

 

888

 

“What magical weapons do we have?” Henri asked, glancing at his character sheet.

 

“Your battle ax is considered a magical weapon. See?” Daryl tapped the spot. “You add two points of damage when you hit due to the enchantment. Dad's sword is a Holy Avenger which is a plus three. Jim's bow, Megan's morning star, and Joel's warhammer are all plus two. Brian has a plus two sword and a plus one dagger. Both of Rhonda's daggers are plus one and Blair has a silver sickle and since it's usually used for harvesting specific herbs for his druidic practices, it's a plus one magical weapon.”

 

“Can I get a hold of any small sealable jars or vials?” Blair paced a bit behind the couch, stretching out cramped limbs.

 

Daryl rolled a dice. “Virianna can get eighteen of them for you.”

 

“Okay. Then I want to fill them with water and cast 'Bless'. That way we have holy water on hand; especially Rianna, since she would have to get too close with her daggers to damage a wight.” Daryl made a note for himself.

 

Rhonda studied her character sheet. “He's right, guys. I'm not very good with a dagger, a wight would make mincemeat out of me. Would a fireball have any affect?”

 

“It'll distract them, but they won't take any damage. It may be a spell, but a fireball isn't magical in and of itself.”

 

“I have 'Shillelagh'. It will turn a normal wooden staff or club into a plus one magical weapon for about 16 rounds. I could cast it for you and myself. It would give you more of a reach, instead of being so close,” Blair offered.

 

“You have 'Magic Missile',” Daryl reminded. “That would count as an enchanted weapon. With the bonus of being able to cast it at a distance.”

 

“Okay. Guess we're as ready as we'll be.”

 

888

 

A good night's rest, a contemplative breakfast, and the eight soon found their way through the wood and heading toward the old barrow.

 

The land around the entrance had become corrupt; the grass blackened, plants withered, even the trees which had survived both drought and fire succumbed to the corruption. Balen could barely keep from snarling, shoulders hunched as the Wolf sensed the evil creatures lurking within.

 

Jaxon lay a hand on the Druid's shoulder in commiseration, his own hackles rising. It was so still. No bird call. No animals foraging. Dead. Limbering his bow, his gaze swept the area for any unpleasant surprises.

 

Wights weren't unintelligent, they maintained most of their original memories, though any magical abilities left with the soul – but neither were they known for trap setting. Hawk felt reasonably secure that the barrow entrance would be clear. “But further in, there's no saying. It would depend on whether the original builders trapped the tomb and if the wights set any off in the months they've inhabited it. So be careful.”

 

Simond entered first, his holy avenger in one hand, a sun rod in the other. Heron and Hawk strode in after him, followed by Joryn and Rianna, then Myla with Balen, and Jaxon protecting the rear. It didn't take long before any sunlight vanished as they moved deeper into the barrow. 

8

  
The soft click of nails upon stone was the only warning they got as a large form launched itself at Heron from a deep alcove. The suddenness of the attack caused the barbarian to lose his footing and he crashed to the flagstones in a whirl of tangled limbs. Grasping the creature by the wrists, Heron desperately tried to keep its claws from connecting with his flesh.  


Hawk sank both his daggers into the creature's back, the large prone target impossible to miss. It the same time, Simond swiftly pivoted, his sword cutting deep into the wight's side. It screeched in pain; an answering shriek down a side path had everyone on edge.  


Heron managed to raise his leg, wedging his knee between himself and the wight, and shoved it further away. Over-balancing, the two ended up on their side.  


Joryn grasped Heron's battle ax, and with a powerful swing, brought it down on the creature's neck, severing head from body.  


Heron scrambled to his feet, moving away from the twitching limbs. Myla aught the barbarian's eye, “Did it cut you?”  


“No.” The large man shuddered as he stared at the dead creature. Nodding his appreciation as Joryn returned his ax, he turned to continue down the corridor, face grim. “Let's get this over with.” After exchanging glance, the others scrambled to keep up.  


Within a second alcove, they found the remains of a child. Both Simond and Myla prayed over the body, the oppressive weight of corruption lifting momentarily. “At least that's one we don't have to worry about,” Simond sighed  


“It is Angeria's child” Jaxon asked.  


A grim look crossed the Paladin's face. “No. This was a boy-child. Angeria lost a daughter. I pray we find her in similar condition.” No one wanted the child dead, but each were realistic. The chances the child lived were infinitesimal. None wished to deal with a child-like wight.  


Balen reverently gathered the bones, wrapping them in cloth and storing them in their pack. “We can return the body, at least. It'll bring closure to the parents.”  


The rest of that level was eerily quiet and empty. A passage descended further into the earth and the company cautiously made their way down.  


888  


“Dad. You're in front. Roll perception.”  


“Twelve.”  


“Okay. Roll for Dexterity.”  


“Eight.”  


“Good,” Daryl grinned. 

888  


Simond felt the ground shift beneath his foot. He quickly stepped back just in time as a section of the passageway crumbled before him. “Damn.”  


“Simond?” Jaxon called from the back.  


“Part of the floor is missing. Hawk, think you can find us a way over?”  


The Elven Thief moved forward. “Where did you step?”  


“Here.” Simond pointed to a small depression in the earth.  


Hawk examined the area carefully. “That's the only trap. So, we shouldn't have any more floor fall in.”  


“Any way across?” Rianna asked.  


“If there isn't some type of mechanism on the other side that would allow a bridge to form...” Hawk trailed off, thinking. He shook his head. “I'd need more light.”  


Rianna cast 'Continual Light' upon a rock the size of a melon. Heron tossed it across the nine foot gap to illuminate the area; as well as a wight standing on the other edge, glaring in hatred at them all. Tripping the trap had actually protected the group, keeping the wight from attacking them. The burly figure hissed in pain as the light pierced sensitive eyes. Howling, it picked the rock up and hurled it down into the gap.  


Aware of its position, still partially illuminated by the sun rod Simond held, Jaxon drew back the string on his bow and let fly two arrows in quick succession. The Ranger smiled with grim satisfaction as the creature was struck in the right eye and throat. It clawed at the shafts, ripping them out, causing more damage. Rianna muttered and flung her hand outward; five missiles forming in mid-air and striking the creature in the chest. It howled in pain and fury. The wight threw itself at the company, ignoring the distance it would have to cross in its maddened condition. Halfway across, it's momentum reversed sharply as another arrow fully blinded it. Fatally wounded, it plummeted into the gap; the shriek ending in a dull thud.  


“Is it dead?” Hawk asked.  


Simond, Myla, and Balen all nodded.  


“How do we get across without having someone attacked the moment they're on the other side? There's no telling where the other wights are.” Myla glanced over the edge, the bespelled rock only a small dim glow far below.  


“I've a grapple hook,” Hawk offered.  


It took a few moments, but the grapple hook caught firmly between some boulders. Attaching it the same way on their side gave them a rope bridge to stand upon. Hawk went first, hammering piton into the rock wall for hand holds. One by one, the group inched their way across the gap. Both heron and Myla nearly slipped, with only a quick grab at a piton saving them. Joryn feared his weight would snap the rope. “Good thing it's made of silk,” he joked uneasily.  


“Only the best, my friend,” Hawk assured.  


Before they left, Balen uncorked a jar and anointed the rope and two of the closest pitons. At the questioning glances, he explained, “Holy water. If any wights try to use the rope to escape or to get rid of it so we can't, the holy water may deter them.”  


888  


“Oh. I almost forgot about the holy water,” Rhonda exclaimed. “That's a good idea.”  


“I agree.” Daryl marked something down on his note pad. “Good thinking, Blair.”  


Henri looked over at the younger detective. “How's your character doing?”  


“Fine,” Blair drawled, one brow raised. “Why?”  


“Well, we're underground. I thought maybe his claustrophobia might kick in.”  


“He's uncomfortable because of the proximity of the wights – it makes his skin itch. Being underground doesn't bother him – that 's part of nature. It's being in cities with a large press of people that makes him claustrophobic.”  


“Oh. Okay.” Henri turned his attention back on Daryl, eyes bright and a grin on his face. “What next, boss?”  


“The passage opens into three chambers. The usual layout has the central chamber hold the Lord or Lady. To the right would be any worldly possessions that the Lord or lady would need for their next journey. To the left would be their servants.”  


“How do you mean?” Megan asked.  


“It wasn't unusual for the servants, pets, even favorite concubines of a Lord or Lady to be killed and buried with them so that they'd be able to continue serving their master in the next world. There was a really cool documentary on the History Channel last month. Archeologists have found that lots of different cultures used to do something like this. Egyptians, Vikings, even the Japanese and the Chinese. Right, Blair?”  


Blair nodded, “Yup. Even Aztecs and Mayans would bury their chiefs with an honor guard of some sort – either trusted servants or defeated enemies to protect them on their journey.”  


“I want to go to the right,” Rafe grinned, rubbing his hands together in glee. “Who knows what riches can be found.” He ducked a thrown wadded up napkin.  


“Let's wait to rid the barrow of wights before we loot,” Henri warned.  


“If we loot,” Simon interjected. “We're already being paid for this and the 'loot' as you put it doesn't belong to us.”  


“Might even be cursed,” Jim added, stretching his legs out and crossing them at the ankle.  


“Yeah. You're right. I'll wait.”  


“Blair, roll a percentage die and tell me the result.”  


“Forty-two.”  


“Okay.”  


888  


Furtive movement could be heard in the left hand chamber. They stepped into the room cautiously, senses alert, hands clasped tightly around their weapons. Four globes set high in each corner dimly lit the room with enough illumination that the humans could just make their way around. Two sarcophagi lined the wall to their right and two to their left, a doorway on the left hand wall was bracketed by four more; two on either side. Six caskets lined the right hand wall, six along the back. Each coffin was separated by a tall stone pillar which cast odd shadows. Their simple design suggested they contained servants. In the center of the room was a raised dais. Four sarcophagi stood at each corner, as if guarding. Upon the dais lay yet another sarcophagus – this one slightly more ornate; probably a concubine.  


Jaxon pursed his lips, nerves on edge. There were too many hiding spots, not enough light. Narrow walkways had them spread further apart than he'd like, but it couldn't be helped. It was a good place for an ambush.   


Balen's snarl caught everyone by surprise. Spinning to the right, the Druid slashed the air with his silver sickle. An ear-piercing shriek accompanied the loss of several fingers of the wight's right hand. Undeterred, it quickly slashed with its left, catching its smaller opponent in the shoulder. Balen caught his balance and fell into a crouch.  


Before anyone could assist, four other wights swarmed the group. 

8  


Out of the corner of her eye, Myla spotted a small figure clamber upon a casket to pounce upon Balen's unprotected back; the small wight's features twisted in a grimace of hatred. “O, God of Healing, bring Peace to this child; bring her safely into your arms.” Dimly, she heard Jaxon call Balen's name in warning. She gestured, finishing the blessing, dispelling the wight. The child's body vanished in a bright golden glow as Angeria's child was finally put to rest. 

8  


Jaxon spotted the wight about to attack Balen. “Balen! Behind you!” He turned to let fly an arrow, crying out as the bright golden glow of a Turning dazzled his eyes, ruining his night vision. He heard the arrow go off course, clattering against a stone wall. He blinked hard, unable to see, and pressed his back to the closest wall, praying his vision cleared before he was attacked. 

8  


Rianna wasn't faring much better. One of the wights had slipped past Joryn to attack her. She stumbled upon some rubble on the floor while trying to sidestep the attack. Claws raked down her arm and she could literally feel herself become weaker as the wight drained her energy. She jerked to the left, avoiding another blow, and half-fell against a nearby sarcophagus. She spit out a phrase and flung her hands upward sending a handful of missiles to connect with the wight. The creature pawed at its face, unable to see. While distracted, Joryn slammed his warhammer into its side, sending it to the floor. Stepping forward, the Dwarf never let the creature regain its feet as he rained blow after blow down upon it, till it finally stopped moving. 

8  


Heron and Hawk tag-teamed a particularly worrisome wight. It's large frame and strength had them hard pressed to keep it at arms length. Heron got struck twice before he and Hawk fell into a rhythm. The two alternated between ax and sword, whittling the thing down until they'd finally dropped it. 

8  


Simond's battle cry echoed through the chamber, his Holy Avenger nearly glowing as it reacted to the undead being before him. Claws skittered harmlessly across his armor as he sliced into its belly, spilling entrails. Ignoring pained cries, the Paladin brought his sword down three more times, eliminating the threat.  
888  


“Blair. Roll another percentage.”  


“Thirty-seven.”  


888  


At Jaxon's shout, Balen had twisted slightly to put the second threat within his vision. Bad move. Partially blinded by the clerical spell, Balen felt the first wight catch at his hand, a searing cold numbing him further, the weapon falling to the floor. The wight pressed forward, trying to crowd the smaller half-elf against a sarcophagus. Maddened by the thing's proximity, foggy headed from energy drain, Balen transformed into a wolf and dashed between the thing's feet, snapping at its leg as he passed.  


888  


“Oh. Right. Wolf. Animals have an adverse reaction to wights. Got it. Carry on,” Rafe commented. 

 

“Well, I'm not doing well,” Blair grimaced. “Do I connect?”

 

“Roll to hit.”  Daryl peered at the die.  “Yup. You got him. Taking a chunk of calf in the process. You  only do three points of damage but make it stumble so it doesn't get an attack of opportunity on you. However, it is mummified flesh. It tastes disgusting and there's a good chance that you're either poised or diseased.”

 

“Ewww...” Blair made a face, shuddering dramatically. The others laugh. “I spit it out and keep going, scramble around one of the coffins and head toward the doorway that leads to the left.”

 

“Okay. The wight follows.”

 

“I go after Balen to help,” Megan shifted, curling her feet beneath her.

 

“Unfortunately, you have other things to deal with. Rianna stumbled against a sarcophagus while wounded, remember?”

 

“I set off a trap?” Rhonda rubbed at her forehead.

 

“You set off a trap.”

 

888

 

“Is everyone alright?” Simond demanded, eyes flickering around the room, looking for more threats. He'd spotted Balen chased by a wight and had started in that direction when a sound from the crypt beside him caught his attention.

 

Rianna shrieked as bony fingers threaded through her hair as a skeleton rose from the sarcophagus she leaned against. She dropped to the floor, the angle breaking the skeleton's arm against the edge of the coffin, snapping it off. She scrambled away, heading closer to Joryn, the severed limb still grasping her hair. The maimed creature pulled itself out of the coffin, snapping its teeth at her. From each coffin – other than the one on the raised dais – skeletons clambered and swarmed the companions.

 

Confusion and chaos ensued.

 

Jaxon dodged and ducked as he evaded bony limbs. His arrows mostly useless. He leaped upon a sarcophagus and kicked a skeleton hard in the head, distracting it from attacking Myla. The cleric swung her morning stark, cracking bone. Three strikes removed the head, causing the bones to collapse in upon themselves. Three others moved in to take its place.

 

Heron swung his battle ax, effectively decapitating two skeletons in quick succession. Hawk stayed close to his side, keeping two others at bay by the longer reach his sword gave him. “this sucks! The Elf shouted as a clawed finger scored a line of fire down one shoulder.

 

“Agreed.”

 

After a swift glance to pinpoint the greatest concentration of undead, Simond turned to face the grouping and prayed.  “Oh, Goddess of the Sun. Eliminate these abominations of Your Will. Release these bones from that which animates them. In Your Name!” He crossed himself.  A brilliant golden light pulsed outward from him, disintegrating twelve of the skeleton menaces. The remaining nine immediately focused on the Paladin as the greatest threat, trying to pull him down, the number hindering his movements.

 

The others rushed to Simond's aid; battering and bludgeoning the skeletons into bits and pieces.

 

Panting, exhausted and injured, the seven regrouped. “Where's Balen?”

 

Jaxon found and picked up the sickle. “I don't think he had any other weapons.”

 

“He had to transform to get away from a wight,” Myla informed. “It caught him at least twice from what I saw. He headed for that other room just before the skeletons attacked. The wight chased after him.”

 

“Come on. Let's go help him,” Heron started to head for the door in question.

 

“Wait. I want to heal anyone who got caught by a wight, first. It'll cause problems, otherwise.” Heron huffed but allowed the cleric to heal both himself and Rianna before taking off.

 

8

 

Balen dashed into the central chamber three steps ahead of the wight. The transformation, on top of the energy drain, left him near exhausted. Sides heaving as he panted, he looked for a good place to hole up and defend himself. Hackles rose and a growl rumbled as his senses were bombarded. The lead wight had made its home here. Balen could feel how much more powerful this one was in comparison to the others they'd dealt with. If it got ahlod of him, he'd be dead – he was in no shape to confront a healthy, well rested, wight. He dodged to the left, putting a pillar between himself and the doorway, crouching low to the ground.

 

The wight stood just inside the doorway, gaze sweeping the interior. It took a few shuffling steps further in, Balen could hear the limping strike. He'd hurt it. Somehow, without a magical weapon or silver, he'd hurt it. Balen studied his claws, a grim determination filling him. He couldn't let it wound him again, instinctively knowing that death was near; but he couldn't let it escape or ambush his friends, either.

 

Slinking across the floor, the fighting in the next chamber covering the click of talon on stone, Balen circled around until he spotted the wight. The creature's back to him, he steadied himself, then silently launched himself at the wight. One hundred and eighty pounds of Wolf bore the creature to the floor. Teeth clamped around the back of the neck, claws tore furiously into the wight, tearing away mummified flesh in strips. It had no leverage and could not toss him off, no matter how it struggled. With a vicious turn of his head, Balen broke the thing's neck; the bones tearing through flesh, nearly severing the head from its shoulders. He clawed a few more moments for good measure, but the wight was dead.

 

A sharp pain shot through him as he was grabbed by the ruff of his neck and thrown across the room. Balen crashed into the elaborate sarcophagus in the center of chamber. Everything went dark.

 

888

 

“Oh, man.” Blair ran a hand through curly hair.

 

“Are you dead?” Rhonda asked, peering over at his character sheet.

 

“Almost. If I get hit one more time I'll die and come back as a wight.” He grinned suddenly, startling the others. “Then I'll do what I can to turn everyone else into wights, too.”

 

“He knows you and your weaknesses. If lucky, he could do it, too.” Daryl flashed a toothy grin.

 

“Man, stay away from me, mummy boy.” Henri put his hands out in a warding gesture.

 

“Booga, booga.” Blair replied, wiggling his fingers.  “So, does the wight finish me off now that I'm defenseless?”

 

Daryl rolled a die. “No. The fighting in the next room has drawn its attention. As self-preservation is paramount, the wight makes its way into the next chamber.”

 

888

 

Heron was the first into the central chamber. Checking for threats, he saw the dead wight, but it was Jaxon who located the crumpled from of his partner.

 

“Balen?” The Ranger knelt, running a gentle hand along the wolf's side, back, and skull. From a belt pouch he pulled a bottle, the blue cloth tied around its neck indicating it was a Heal potion. Gently, he pulled the wolf closer and managed to pour the potion down Balen's throat, grateful that the Druid swallowed on his own. A few minutes later, green-gold eyes blinked open and focused upon him “Can you revert to True Form? Then we can see about any other injuries.”

 

Nodding, Balen closed his eyes and concentrated. The transformation took longer than usual, a clear indication of energy drain.

 

Myla knelt beside them, the others guarding. “What happened?”

 

“Got hit four times. Instincts took over for a bit. It chased me, but I ambushed it.” He nodded at the corpse. “Then the lead wight grabbed me and tossed me into the sarcophagus. I'm surprised I'm still alive. I don't know where it is now.”

 

Simond reached down and helped the half-elf to his feet, steadying him. “They'll kill animals, but since they can't Turn them into wights, it probably didn't feel the need to finish you off. You weren't a threat any more and it probably ran from the battle.”

 

“What battle?” The Druid still looked pale; dark circles beneath his eyes heralded his exhaustion. Myla cast her last healing spell.

 

“Skeletons. Must have been a tomb trap. It only happened after one of us bled on a coffin.” Hawk circled the elaborately carved sarcophagus with a gleam in his eye. Leaning forward, but not touching, he peered at an engraved warning and gave a disappointed sigh. He turned back to the others. “The only other exit is through the treasure chamber if this Lord was paranoid over anyone who would try to desecrate the body of his concubine, I don't want to try to imagine what kind of traps are protecting any of his worldly possession. Wights aren't generally acquisitive, so it's possible they never tripped any traps. We can either risk it, or go around and see if the creature tried to head for the surface.”

 

Simond glanced over everyone, evaluating their conditions. “Around. Just keep an eye behind us.”

 

Jaxon handed Balen his sickle, clasping his shoulder, glad his friend would recover.

 

The entire group returned to the main corridor through the servant's chamber. Hawk checked the right hand doorway. Sure enough, it hung ajar, the dust disturbed recently with footsteps.

 

An outraged shriek of pain had them moving faster toward the gap.

 

The wight stood on the edge of the collapsed floor, one hand cradled in the other, wisps of smoke coming from the palm where undead flesh had met holy water. Unable to flee, it attacked, using its claws and teeth to devastating effect. The companion hindered by the narrow passage and the need to not harm the others.

 

The wight scored hits upon Simond, Hawk, Heron, and Myla before they could organize themselves against the attack.  Simond sliced deep into his side with his Holy Avenger. Heron's ax severed an arm. Rianna and Myla stood back, throwing jars of holy water, their aim dead on. Hawk slid out of the way not having enough of a reach to be helpful. Joryn stood protectively in front of Balen who leaned tiredly against the wall, sickle held in a tight grasp. Jaxon kept an eye in the direction of the  chambers for any additional surprises.

 

The creature finally defeated, all that could be heard was their own harsh breathing.

 

Balen needed some assistance crossing the rope bridge and once across, Hawk dismantled it. “No need making it easy for any looters.”

 

888

 


	5. Ch. 1-15 Terengard, the Last Puzzle Piece, Kapizon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The city of Terengard, the ritual and last puzzle piece. Opening the box.

 

Chapter 13:

 

“As you exit, you can feel the oppressiveness from the wights' presence begin to lift. It'll take a while, but the area will recover. Your journey back to town is uneventful. Vrianna and Alegeria meet you at the edge of town. A border guard alerted them of your approach. Just by looking they can tell you were successful. Alergeria takes the bones of the other child, quietly thanks you, hands over the map piece and leaves. Vrianna offer the use of a small home on the of tskirts of town to rest and heal. Everyone in the town is truly grateful,but you know the sooner you leave the more easy the town will rest.

 

“The next morning, both Simond and Myla are able to heal everyone of their injuries, though the psychological effects of the energy drain lasts a few days longer. Even early risers find the need for extra sleep.”

 

“We'll leave as soon as everyone is capable of it.” Everyone agreed with Simon.

 

“This is a good spot to stop for lunch. What do you say?” Jim looked over at Daryl.

 

“I could eat,” the DM flashed a grin. “What are our choices?”

 

“We could hit the deli down the street. No offense, but I don't think I could handle any more pizza,” Jol commented. “I'm not as young as I used to be.”

 

“There's a menu around here somewhere. We can call the order in, then have someone go pick it up when it's ready.” Jim rose from his seat and rummaged through one of the kitchen drawers. “Here we go.” He handed it over to Daryl, who shifted over so that some others could look over his shoulder.

 

Once everyone figured out what they wanted, Blair called the order in. “Thanks, Marta.” He hung up. “Order should be ready in about twenty minutes. Who's coming with me to bring it back?”

 

“I will,” Henri announced.

 

“Me, too.” Rafe added. “It'll give me a chance to stretch my legs.”  Rafe followed Joel and Simon out onto the balcony for a smoke while Jim pulled plates from the kitchen.

 

“This has been an awful lot of fun, Daryl. Is the adventure from a modual?” Megan reached for the bag of chips, opening the bag and pouring them into a bowl to set on the table.

 

A faint blush appeared on the teen's face. “No. I wrote it myself.”

 

“So, we're the play-testers?” Rhonda asked with a grin, setting out fresh glasses and napkins.

 

“Well, I hadn't intended to have it published.”

 

“I don't see why not. It's an interesting concept. The level of difficulty can be easily adjusted based on the numbers and levels of the characters.” Blair pulled loose dice from where they'd fallen beneath the couch. “The story line makes sense and, most importantly, it's fun.”

 

“We'll see how it ends. I'll think about it, though. Could be fun to see it in print.”

 

“Cool.” Blair glanced at the clock. “Let me go grab our food so we can find out what happens next. H! Rafe! Ready?”

 

“Yup.” Henri snagged his partner's arm and the two followed Blair out.

 

Jim leaned against the back of the couch. “What would you need to get it published?”

 

“I'd have to submit a game concept to the company. Then, if they're interested, write this up so that it follows the proper format. They'd rather most of the bugs get ironed out before it's sent to them. That means having it play-tested a few times beforehand, sometimes with more then one group. If they like it, they'll buy it off me and publish it. So far, I've only had a few bits and pieces done with other groups. I've never combined some of this together before.” He shrugged. “If it ends well, then I'll consider submitting it.”

 

By the time the food arrived, the table had been cleared of dice and character sheets.

 

“So, where does the puzzle box send us next?” Joel asked, biting into the pickle wedge that came with his sandwich.

 

“Looks like it's along the western coast. No one in the group has been this far north and any maps you have are woefully out of date.  None of the ones Alergeria has focus on that portion of the world – it's a separate kingdom and he's not been there, nor dealt with anyone from there. You'll have to make due with the one on the puzzle box.

 

“After a week of travel, you come across a well-maintained road leading in the correct direction. There are a few travelers along the road as well.”

 

“Travelers? Are they adventurers? Merchants? Gypsies?” Blair ate his own pickle, then grinned when Rafe handed him his.

 

“Merchant. Looks like a rug seller.”

 

Jim glanced at his character sheet. “I have 'gather information' and 'travel lore' so I'll ask him which town or villages are nearby, as well as about the place we're headed.”

 

“The merchant appears uneasy at first, but when he notices your crest he relaxes, becoming more friendly. He allows you to copy his map and goes over the small settlements that the road connects – all leading to their port city of Terengard. Cascadus does some trading with them, but not often as taxes are high.”

 

“Why is he uneasy? Are there bandits that plague the road?” Jim finished the first half of his sandwich, setting the plate to one side for now.

 

“Roll perception.” After Jim did so, Daryl continued. “You noticed the merchant does not speak directly to any of the non-humans in the group. He is not rude or disrespectful, but you get the sense that non-humans make him uncomfortable.”

 

“How long will it take to get to Terengard?” Joel asked, taking a napkin to wipe his mouth.

 

“Four more days. And you'll pass by at least three smaller villages and towns.”

 

“I thank the man and we'll travel on our own. No reason to make someone unnecessarily nervous.”

 

888

 

Rianna frowned at yet another disdainful look sent her way. The group had arrived in Telengard earlier in the day and from the very beginning things had felt off. Their first choice for lodging had inexplicably had no rooms available when they tried to check in; though she knew she heard the innkeeper welcome travelers who arrived after they vacated the premises. They ended up in a second rate inn along the outskirts of town. Small, worn, and meals had to be found elsewhere, but at least the rooms were clean and baths available for an additional price. Simond had made arrangement for the room, and the innkeeper seemed genuinely happy to have custom; but when he spotted the rest of the party she thought she remembered him frown in concern before his wife interrupted to have him take care of an issue that had come up.

 

The group decided to take care of some necessities and to scout the city. According to the puzzle box, the last piece lay somewhere in the center of the port town. Deep in the middle of civilization, the last piece might be harder to retrieve than the others. Simond and Myla went to find the local church for tithing, prayers, and hopefully information. Hawk went to see if he could contact the local Thieves Guild; if they even had one. Heron spotted a Warrior's Hall – a place for training and hiring – and had gone to see what information he could find. Jaxon had chosen to see about exchanging one of the horses. The poor creature would not make a return journey, though for short distances the animal was still sound. Balen stayed at the inn, claiming fatigue; but Rianna felt the Druid just wasn't up for dealing with so many people after so long traveling with just the seven of them. Joryn had chosen to accompany her while she got fresh supplies for supper. The marketplace, somewhere she usually enjoyed, felt stiff and formal. No one was outright rude, but there was an icy politeness from those she dealt with, and though she could hear brisk banter going on around her, none would haggle in their prices with her. Though not exorbitant, she frowned knowing that normally she could get merchants to lower their prices for her. But the merchants here were firm. One price. Take it or leave it. It made no matter to the merchants.

 

Placing the last package within her pack she mumbled her thanks to the merchant and turned to find Joryn. The Dwarf had stopped at the blacksmith's hoping to effect repairs on a few weapons and purchase some iron. Joryn met her on the street, took her by the elbow, and gently steered her toward their lodging. “Any luck?”

 

“Minimal,” came the gruff reply. “The blacksmith is a no nonsense sort. He charges fairly and has a keen eye for detail. He seemed happy to speak with me.” He shot her a look. “He also mentioned what a shame it was that all the Dwarven craftsmen up and left five years ago.” He sighed in disgust. “Now the town is predominately human. Non-humans aren't really welcome here. They don't own any businesses in town. Most found it easier to move on rather than stay.”

 

“What caused the shift?”

 

“He didn't say, but he did try to warn me to be careful.”

 

“I think I'll feel better once everyone's together again.” The two hurried their steps.

 

Passing an alley, neither were prepared as their limbs weighed down with lassitude. The sleep spell sent them sprawling. Moments later, the street appeared empty once again.

 

8

 

Hawk leaned up against a wall across from the local Thieves Guild; there were too many ragged looking people, many carrying crutches or wearing eye patches, moving in and out for it to be anything else. Something about the situation niggled, but he couldn't quite put his finger on what bothered him. He didn't like it. About to fade back and reconsider his approach, he stiffened slightly, keeping very still, as the cool edge of a blade pressed lightly along the side of this throat.

 

“Now, why would ye be hangin' aboot, Elf?” The term hurled like an epitaph. “Don't ye be known' it ain't healthy fer yer kind 'round these parts?”

 

“Just checking in with the local talent.” Hawk made the signal signifying he was a member.

 

The blade pressed more firmly, nicking the skin and sending a trickle of blood to soak into his collar. “Ain't none of yern one o' us, Elf,” came the snarl. Before he could defend himself, Hawk felt the sharp prick of a needle. The drug worked quick. As consciousness spun down into darkness he heard the voice spit, “Didn't I tell ye it ain't healthy fer yer kind 'round these parts?”

 

8

 

Balen paced around the room, wondering if it would have been better to have gone with one of the others. He hadn't seen the innkeeper since they'd checked in – he has seemed a decent man -  but the man's wife and the stable hand were another matter entirely. The glares they sent his way as he'd organized his friends' belongings made his hackles rise.

 

Feeling stifled, he left the room to check on the horses. Brushing one of the beasts soothed his uneasiness and he'd almost convinced himself that he was being paranoid when a large hand clamped painfully on his shoulder, pulling him out of the stall to crash onto the straw-strewn ground. “We don't take kindly to your sort.”

 

Balen pushed himself up onto his feet in a low crouch, hands still on the ground for balance. “What sort would that be?”

 

The burly man wore a dark blue tunic with a gold sun on the right shoulder, the rays extending to encompass the entire shoulder. He moved closer, a sneer upon his face. “Half breeds are an abomination and should never have been born.” He aimed a kick at the half-elf, the sneer shifting to a scowl as Balen easily evaded the blow. “I'll not allow you to sully our town with your filth.” He made a motion and four other men, similarly dressed, descended upon the Druid. A lucky blow to the head rendered him unconscious.

 

888

 

“Well, that can't be good.” Megan blinked. “So what do the rest of us find out?”

 

888

 

Heron sat at the bar, nursing a beer; the frown on his face deepening as he listened to the conversation around him:

 

“Yah. Got hired on to eliminate that community of daisy eaters last spring. Good money and with the clerics on our side it was a pretty simple job.”

 

“... after the fire, that Dwarf couldn't get the money to rebuild. He left town and my cousin bought the land for a song.”

 

“...Didn't know he wasn't fully human. When the baby was born, the abnormality was obvious. Her father had them killed for dishonoring the family in such a way. It nearly killed him to do it, but better than allowing the blood to be diluted.”

 

Alarmed by the trend, Heron left the Warrior's Hall in search of his friends.

 

8

 

Trading the horse didn't take as long as he thought it would, but Jaxon found himself distracted as he returned to the inn. He'd noticed the lack of non-humans in the city. He'd also noticed the number of people wearing blue tunics with gold suns on the shoulder. It wasn't far-fetched to assume that the two were related. The sooner they found the last puzzle piece and left this city behind, the better.

 

Nearing the inn, he spotted a full squad of men in said tunics turning the corner ahead of him, heading back to town. A ripple of uneasiness ran down his spine. Scowl on his face, he hurried toward the inn.

 

Quickly stabling the new horse, experienced eyes noted the signs of a struggle in the straw. Praying he was wrong, Jaxon headed up the stairs.  “Balen?” The Druid wasn't in any of the rooms assigned to them, nor in the bathing chamber, main room, or family kitchen of the tiny inn.  The door opened and the innkeeper stepped inside, arms full of wood for the stove. “Have you seen my friend? He stayed to rest while the rest of us went to town.”

 

The older man shook his head. “I've been out running errands myself since you've checked in.” He shifted his stance, his manner uneasy. “I'm not one to poke my nose in someone else's business, but your friend, he's non-human, am I correct?”

 

“Half the party is non-human. Why?”

 

“This town isn't too friendly to those not of pure human descent. Most limit themselves to just being coldly polite, refusing to barter in the market, perhaps denying services. Mild discrimination. But the Clerics of the Flame have a nasty habit of harassing folk who aren't pure.”

 

“Harass? How?”

 

“Physically bully them. Some of the accidents that have caused several of our non-human neighbors to leave town weren't accidents. If the City Council can get a non-human on a crime, they'll fine them and banish them from the city; take their land and businesses, too.   If the Clerics of the Flame get hold of a non-human...” he trailed off, brow furrowed. “That's when things get more brutal. They came into town nearly a decade ago. Started out small, but got progressively more vocal and powerful. They started pontificating – claiming that non-humans were bad, but half breeds were worse. Got to the point that I feared for my family's life. See, my brother married a beautiful elven lass. Wonderful woman, Lia is. But their two children were having the devil of a time. I feared something would happened and convinced them to sell me their half of the inn and move to a safer spot. Last I heard, they were doing well in a small town several fortnights south of here.” He tapped on the counter, eyes focused out the window at the stables. His stable hand crossed the yard, a smirk upon his face. The innkeeper's frown deepened. “Let me speak with my wife, I have a feeling she knows something about what has occurred.” He strode off before Jaxon could protest. 

 

The Ranger couldn't make out what was said, but he could hear their tones. The innkeeper spoke quietly, but with a deliberate cadence. His wife gave a waspish reply. The man's response was cold and clipped, eliciting a gasp from the wife. The stable hand's voice was high and reedy, a whining tone that ended in a slamming of the door as the young man made a hasty retreat away from the inn.

 

The innkeeper returned, his face set in grim lines, eyes flashing in his ire. “My wife, being such a 'concerned citizen,' took it upon herself to contact the Clerics of the Flame to let them know that we harbored non-humans. My guess, your friend was taken to their Temple.” He pulled a sheet of parchment out and a quill and ink.  “It's the only temple in town, near the center. They won't bar you entry since you're human, but once they realize your intentions you could be in some trouble. I've been a few times. This is the layout as I remember it.  There's a side door just past the main room of worship which should let you bypass some of the clerics and novitiates.” He gazed seriously at the Ranger. “I can't help but stress once again. The Clerics of the Flame hate non-humans but believe half breeds are an abhorrence and against the natural laws of their god. I've heard rumor that not all non-humans were banished, but instead used in sacrificial rites. You'll want to get him out of there as soon as possible. Take what you think you'll need for a rescue – I can gather the rest of your belongings and forward them to the 'Wayward Wanderer'. It's a way station three candlemarks South of here. It'll be safe there. I can also let any of the rest of your party know what is going on if they show up here.'

 

Jaxon studied the man for a long moment, before nodded, clasping hands with the innkeeper. “Thank you.”

 

“Good luck.”

 

888

 

“Oh, this is just getting better and better,” Blair mock-groused.

 

“Sorry, Blair.” Daryl rolled a die between the palms of his hands, a wry expression on his face.

 

“No, you're not.” But the smile took the sting out of the words.

 

“What next?” Rafe asked.

 

“As Jaxon heads for town, he meets up with Heron. The two exchange what they learned.”

 

“I agree that we should head to the Temple immediately to see if Balen is there, keeping an eye out for any of the others.” Henri nodded at Jim.

 

“Good. As you walk, no one bothers the two of you.” Daryl shifts in his seat looking at his father. “Now we'll see what Simond and Myla have been up to.”

 

888

 

After asking around, both Simond and Myla were surprised to discover that only the Temple of the Clerics of the Flame was open to the public. They'd become so powerful over the past decade, other religions had practically gone underground, only maintaining small, private places of worship that did not welcome strangers. 

 

Arriving at the Temple, Simond and Myla were welcomed by one of the higher clerics. The man wore a deep sapphire blue robe with a god sun emblazed upon the chest; face serene, but eyes calculating. “Welcome, travelers. Welcome to the Temple of the Clerics of the Flame. How may we serve you?”

 

“We came to pray, to tithe, and to gather information,” Simond began.

 

“I notice that you wear the symbol of the god of Healing,” the cleric interjected, addressing Myla.

 

“Yes. But there does not appear to be a temple dedicated to Him.”

 

The cleric nodded, “We entered the city almost a decade ago, preaching the Good News. In that time, many have converted to our ways which left many of the other religions to struggle along for a few years. Most of their temples closed due to lack of worshipers. Not wanting to exclude anyone, we have a special room set aside so others may worship other religions.” He gestured to a hallway to the left of the main room. “We only ask that you be open to speak with one of our numbers. Perhaps, you too shall found our teaching to suit you more then that of the god you currently serve.”

 

“Thank you.” Myla smiled but Simond knew her well enough to know the edge that smile carried. She was not one to suffer condensation lightly. He followed her down the right hand corridor, not missing the slight frown on the cleric's face as he did so.

 

Myla nudged him as the door to the smaller place of worship closed behind them, her manner easing. “He's probably wondering why you're going to the 'alternative religion' room.”

 

“What?”

 

“Your holy symbol looks similar to theirs, Simond. If they haven't been out of the kingdom, they might not realize that it represents the Goddess of the Sun.”

 

Simond looked startled for a moment, his hand unconsciously coming up to cover the pendant he wore. “That didn't occur to me.” Pensive, he moved to one of the pews to kneel. “Wonder if that will cause problems later.”

 

Myla joined him, observing the numerous candles that ringed the room, tier upon tier, of varying hues and sizes – each representing a different god or goddess that no longer had its own sanctuary. Sticks of incense burned, scenting the air, almost overwhelming in their multitude. The room held a simple altar covered in white cloth, a dozen or so pews, and the candles. She and Simond had the place to themselves at the moment. She'd just begun a prayer to her god when she unexpectedly felt herself relax and a warm general sense of lassitude spread throughout her limbs, a feeling she didn't normally achieve except in a full communion with her god. Brow furrowed in thought, she carefully inhaled through her mouth, tasting the scents in the air. A flash of alarm crossed her face. She grasped Simond's arm and murmured, “Try not to breath too deeply. Follow me.” Without another word, she lead him through a second doorway, into a narrow corridor, sighing to find the air clearer.

 

Swiftly checking the hall, she deftly tucked her pendant into her tunic, eyes wide and slightly glazed as she looked up at him. “Tell me more about the Clerics of the Flame?” Simond opened his mouth to question her; she squeezed his elbow in warning.  A young novitiate in a light blue robe drifted down the corridor toward them. The young man studied the two, eyes focusing on Simond's pendant. The cleric bowed with a serene smile upon his face as he passed the two.  Myla wasted no time in leading Simond farther down the hallway, the fumes clearing from her head the further they moved away from the sanctuary.

 

“What is going on?” Simond tucked her arm into his, for all the world looking like he was escorting her.

 

“The incense. It was drugged, possibly bespelled as well. Designed to lower your resistance to suggestion.”

 

Simond didn't argue, he'd noticed how relaxed the room made him feel – not sure of his surroundings, he would not normally lower his guard like that.  “To what end?”

 

“Easy conversion? Let the person think the Clerics are okay with them worshiping other gods in their temple, use a drug to lower their resistance, then have someone talk up their religion?” The two exchanged glances. “I don't know, exactly, but I don't like it. It would explain why they're the only open temple in town.”

 

She walked quietly for a moment, the two taking turns at random. “Did you notice anything odd when we walked by the main sanctuary?”

 

“You mean like there were no non-humans to be seen?  Yes.” Simond's expression was grim. “Is there anything we can do?”

 

“At the moment? Pray. It's all we can do until we get more information. In the meantime, we should return to the inn and warn the others to steer clear of the place.”

 

They tried to retrace their steps, but found themselves turned around. The hallways here were less ornate, almost severe; the doors heavier, many of them barred. Passing a tapestry, both nearly jumped out of their skin as a hand reached out from behind and clasped Simond's shoulder.

 

Jaxon and Heron joined them in the narrow corridor. “What are the two of you doing here?”

 

“Looking for Balen.” Jaxon's expression was grim. “Seems non-humans are frowned upon doing business in town, and half-breeds are especially unwelcome. The innkeeper said that he was taken by a group of Clerics of the Flame and was probably brought here.” He filled the two in on what they'd learned.

 

“Have you seen the others?” Myla asked, her voice tight.

 

“No. The innkeeper offered to warn them if he spotted them. But if he's right, it wouldn't surprise me if they're here somewhere, too.”

 

888

 

“Who has the puzzle box?” Daryl asked, suddenly.

 

“Um … I forget,” Jim admitted. “Who had it last”

 

“Either Simond or Myla. We were dealing with the wrights and the Ogre village.” Rafe spun a six-sided die on one of its corners like a top, scooping it up when it stopped on three. “Would someone else be carrying it at the moment?”

 

“No. That's fine.” Daryl jotted down a reminder for himself on his note pad.

 

888

 

Hawk seethed in anger as he paced the confines of the small cell he found himself in. Other than his tunic and trews, he'd been stripped of all his belongings, including the small piece of wire he kept sewn in the hem of his shirt. He rubbed his neck absently, the nick received had scabbed and would heal without a scar, but his anger at his treatment by a fellow thief, as well as at himself for letting someone get the drop on him, nearly overwhelmed his good sense.

 

He took a deep breath, centering himself, and evaluated the room. The door's hinges were on the other side of the room, so no help there. No loose stones in the floor or ceiling. Featureless walls save for a screen covering a narrow ventilation hole.  He grinned.

 

888

 

Joryn glowered at the door, mentally ordering it to open. His weapons had been taken, as well as his money pouch and jewelry. He had no idea where he was, where Rianna was, how he got here, or why. No one had come to see him, either – either to explain or gloat. He waited impatiently, hoping he could express his displeasure at his current circumstances upon his captors.  When the door did open, he couldn't hide his surprise. “Hawk?”

 

The Elf quirked a grin. “Fancy meeting you here.”

 

Joryn growled softly as he joined him out into the hallway. “Funny. Real funny. Any ideas where we are?”

 

“Temple of the Clerics of the Flame. Holding cells for non-humans.” At the look, he explained. “I was in the ventilation shafts and overheard. Anyway, Rianna is two cells down from you.”

 

Joryn waited until the Mage had been freed before continuing. “Why would we be in the temple?”

 

“Guess this is how they get rid of undesirables,” Rianna scowled. “Come on. Let's go this way.” She pointed down to the left.

 

“Why that way?”

 

“I've got a tell on some of my belongings. It says it's over that way. If we're lucky, all our stolen items are in the same place.”

 

Hawk unlocked a door with a bit of wire he'd found in the ventilation shaft. Sure enough, they found their belongings laid out upon a table where it appeared someone had been cataloging them. After securing their own things, they looked at what remained. A simple hand-carved pendant of a holly leaf on a leather cord, a pouch of herbs, a dagger, and a small hand sickle.  “Balen?”

 

Jalen indicated the clothing sitting on the other side of the table. “Yeah. Balen's around here somewhere.”

 

Rianna carefully gathered the items.

 

“I didn't see him in any of the cells I passed. The only ones in use were the ones we were in. There could be other holding cells in another wing or even another level.” Hawk's lips pressed in a thin line.

 

“Then we should keep looking.”

 

8

 

“Which way?” Simond frowned, fingering the hilt of his sword in agitation. The hallway continued to the left and right with a small stairwell that led both up and down. They'd passed two novitiates in their wandering who merely smiled and bowed. Simond's holy symbol seemed to give them a free pass, but there was no telling how long that would last.

 

A whisper of sound from above had the four humans on guard. The softest hum could be heard – a simple four note run. Relaxing a fraction, Heron hummed three notes back. Hawk, Rianna, and Joryn soon joined them on the landing. “How'd you know?” Heron asked.

 

“I didn't. Had a hunch. Glad it worked.” Hawk grinned, then drew serious. “Guess it's too much to ask that you've already found Balen?”

 

Jaxon shook his head. “Innkeeper said he was taken by the Clerics of the Flame. How did you get here?”

 

Hawk looked disgusted. “Got ambushed outside the Thieves' Guild. They seriously don't like non-humans here.”

 

“Someone cast a sleep spell on us as we left the marketplace,” Rianna admitted, her expression dark.

 

“Well, he's not upstairs,” Joryn stated. “And I'll wager he's not on this level. So, downstairs?”

 

Simond knew their free pass was at an end. His holy symbol wouldn't counter having three non-humans with him. He quietly warned the others and they cautiously descended the stairs.

 

888

 

“Okay, Blair.  Your turn. You wake up in a cell.”

 

888

 

Chapter 14:

 

Balen blinked awake, his eyesight a bit blurred from the earlier blow to his head. He kept still, listening to his surroundings, hoping not to alert anyone that he was aware. Hearing nothing save the crackle of a torch, he took a chance and rolled over, his ribs protesting and his left arm dangling uselessly from a dislocated shoulder; his head ached, but that seemed to be the worst of it, the rest just bruising and minor abrasions from the fight in the stables. The fact that his clothing had been replaced with an undyed linen shift sent a shiver up his spine.

 

The room was featureless, no widows or furniture, just cold stone. Iron bars had replaced the door. Any light came from a torch outside of the room, out of reach of anyone who might be within the cell.  Grimacing, he rose to his feet, riding out the dizziness and nausea. Walking over to the bars he gazed outside, no one appeared nearby.  Lips pressed together in a tight line, the Druid braced himself and rammed his shoulder into the doorway, popping the joint back into place. He gritted his teeth to keep a scream from escaping as white light flashed in his vision. Breathing deeply, he had to take a few minutes to re-center himself.

 

When he recovered, he leaned against the doorjamb and took a closer look at the area beyond him.  The  room stood twenty by twenty with a high ceiling. A line of windows lined the wall near the ceiling, impossible to escape through unless you were a bird. Opposite him stood a large altar covered in blue and gold cloth. Upon the altar lay a gold sacrificial dagger, a silver chalice, and a plate that looked made of crystal. The walls above the altar was done in a giant mosaic of a large Golden Sun; the rays made from various small objects that radiated enough magic he could feel it from across the room. A brazier hung from the ceiling, the incense making him sneeze. Alone the far left stood a set of double doors and on the right was a staircase that led upwards. But what chilled his blood was the ritual circle done in colored tile upon the floor in the center of the room before the altar and mosaic.

 

Exhaustion tugged at him and the Wolf paced within his soul.  'I don't like this.'

 

The double doors opened and two clerics entered the room. Balen shifted away from the bars, the movement catching their attention.  The younger of the two glanced over, eyes widening in surprise. “It's awake.”

 

Balen bristled but held his tongue.

 

The elder looked over, an expression of mild interest plastered upon his face. “Really? How odd. The wards should have kept it incapacitated for much longer. We'll let Tepis know when we're done.”

 

“You're not concerned it will escape?”

 

The cleric scoffed. “Those bars are pick-proof and exude a null-magic zone. It's not going anywhere.” The cleric leered at the half-elf. “And in less than a candlemark we won't have to worry about this one doing much of anything. Will we?”

 

The other nodded his understanding and proceeded to ignore the captive as they tidied the altar, placing fresh cut herbs upon the platter and filling the chalice with a clear liquid. They lowered the brazier's chain and added something to the container, a sickly sweet scent wafting through the room, before raising it once more and left the room, the door closing solidly behind them.

 

Despite the conversation, or maybe in spite of it, Balen tried a spell that would wilt the herbs. A simple spell, it should have easily reached the distance and turned the herbs into a brown sodden mess. Instead, the result had the bars glowing a dull red and Balen felt the iron absorb the spell's energy. “Okay, so magic won't go outside the bars. How about inside the cell?” He pulled a strand of hair from his head and tried a simple color cantrip. Again, the bars glowed red and the spell was absorbed leaving the hair unaffected.

 

Eyes narrowed, Balen reached a hand out and gingerly pressed a finger against one of the iron bars. Nothing. It felt like a normal, solid iron bar. They were set too close together for him to slip through as an Elf, but he might be able to squeeze through as a Wolf. 'And that's 'if' my shape change doesn't register as a spell.' He needed to hurry though. Whatever the clerics had added to the brazier had begun to make his head spin. Concentrating, he tried to Shift. The bars glowed, but barely. Balen could feel the Change, but it was a struggle; not his usual smooth nearly instantaneous transformation. The bones shifted and grated against one another and his muscles protested; a mental shove finally completed the shift. He lay there, panting, gathering his strength. If he could slip through the bars, he'd head up the stairs and hopefully out of wherever he was being held. Approaching the bars, he stuck his head through, only to feel like he'd been struck by lightning. His entire body stiffened as pain lanced through him, the bars trying to leech his energy from him. Only years of discipline and an iron will kept him from howling and alerting the clerics. He wrenched himself away from the bars, collapsing upon the flagstones as his body shuddered and shook from the magical jolt. 'Oh, damn that hurt!' He gasped for breath, becoming dizzier both from the shock and from the incense. 'Can't let them find out I can Shift. Even if it doesn't help me now, maybe I can use it once they release me from this cell.' It took the last of his energy to Shift back to True From before darkness welled up to claim him.

 

888

 

“Well, I'm tapped out,” Blair tossed his hands in the air. “I sure hope you guys are close by. I don't relish a close encounter with that ritual circle.”

 

“You don't think it was too much, do you?” Daryl looked a bit anxious, he wanted everyone to have fun, but Blair's character had been taking some major beatings.

 

“Evil, Daryl. Pure evil to do that to Sandy's poor character.” Megan couldn't hold the solemn expression and her face lit up in a grin. “Love it.”

 

Blair rose to his knees, making eye contact. “Oh, no. This is good, Daryl. It makes sense. I mean, how else are you going to hold onto a person who may or may not have magical abilities? Whoever designed the cell certainly wasn't leaving anything to chance.”

 

“It also helps explain what happened earlier in the game,” Joel added. At Simon's questioning glance, he elaborated. “With the wight. Remember? Only silver or magical weapons could hurt a wight, but Balen managed to tear a chunk out of one's calf and then kill it while in Wolf Form. That means that as a Wolf, he counted as a magical creature, right?”

 

“Unless Balen had his teeth capped,” Rafe joked, pulling his feet away to avoid the swipe.

 

“I don't think that would be very comfortable.” Blair reclaimed his original position, crossing his legs and leaning up against the couch. “So, what did they put in the brazier?”

 

Daryl shrugged. “A few herbs that are tweaked against non-humans to knock you out. Normally, you wouldn't have awakened until they dragged you out of the cell for the ritual, but your Wolf heritage held most of that at bay. Time-line wise, the others should be down the stairs around the same time as the clerics arrive for the rite.”

 

888

 

Rianna stumbled as she stepped over the threshold into the lower level of the Temple. The blaze of magic on the wall nearly blinded her, the bars on the cells that lined the left hand wall lit up in her sight, too, but it was the ritual circle that snared her attention. Death magics practically crawled all over it in a dark miasma of evil. From the corner of her eye, she saw both Simond and Myla react to varying degrees. If possible, the circle had to be destroyed. A whiff of incense had her reeling for completely different reasons. The befouled air made her head spin, weakening her. She stepped back onto the landing, taking in deep breath of untainted air. “Careful. The incense is dangerous.”

 

The humans seemed unaffected. Exchanging glances, Jaxon studied the room a moment, then let an arrow fly at one of the windows, breaking glass and giving the scented air a way to escape the room. Simond lowered the chain and once it was within reach, Heron unhooked the thing and with a swing hurled the pot up and out through the window. Myla frowned, “Rianna? Have anything to get rid of this incense?”

 

The Mage blinked, then nodded, casting 'Gust of Wind'. The hazy air eddied and whirled as the wind blew through the room, carrying the incense outside. However, not a breath stirred within the confines of the cells and the bars glowed red as the unnatural wind touched them. “Null zone,” she growled.

 

Joryn crossed into the room, finding the Druid in the center cell. He knelt, wincing at the bruised figure. “Balen?” He wrinkled his nose at the incense, feeling a headache and general lassitude form. He guessed the smoke was to keep any prisoners unconscious and manageable. So he was a bit surprised when the half-elf opened his eyes and raised his head a bit to look at him.

 

“Hey.” Balen's voice was thready and his face drawn with exhaustion, but his eyes clear and alert.

 

Finding the release mechanism off to one side of the cells, well out of reach or sight of the prisoners, Joryn quickly had the cell open, the incense escaping the enclosure. He returned to Balen, hunkering down beside his friend “Can you move?”

 

The Druid thought a moment, the fresher air already having a positive affect, then nodded. Pushing himself up, he leaned wearily against the wall, panting for breath and looking like he'd fall if not for the stone behind him and Joryn's hand upon his shoulder. Rianna passed him his clothing and Balen gratefully, though slowly, donned them; dropping the linen shift distastefully upon the ground. Jaxon growled as he spotted the bruises that adorned his partner's body from his encounter with the Temple's guards. Balen just gave a jaundiced look. “Is there any wonder I prefer the solitude of the woods to 'civilization'?” The Dwarf offered himself as a crutch, and leaning heavily upon his friend's shoulder, Balen exited the cell into the main room, avoiding the bars. “Can we go now?”

 

Hawk had been admiring the mosaic; most of the pieces upon the wall had been painted or gilded either gold or bronze, but several of the items were made of genuine precious metals with several large gemstones added here and there for an overall gorgeous effect. He blinked, then blinked again as he spotted something.  He leaned nearer, making sure not to touch anything, and drew everyone's attention to the emblem upon the wall. “Is that what I think it is?” The magic users in the group winced at the amount of raw magic just stuck to the wall, not quite sure what exactly Hawk referred to. The thief pointed at one of the rays. Near its tip lay the last puzzle piece.

 

“Well, I'll be damned,” Heron whistled.

 

“And well you shall be for desecrating this most Holy Place of our Benevolent God.” The rich tones sounded behind them. Turning, the group saw a Cleric in royal blue robes of the finest silk, the sun design upon his chest picked out in actual gold and platinum thread, jeweled rings adorned his fingers, and a head piece mimicking the rising sun done in gold and amber glinted on his brow. His face round with overindulgence, slate blue eyes narrow in indolence, and he had a cruel twist to his mouth as he surveyed the group before him.

 

“Benevolent God,” Myla scoffed. “What benevolent god accepts Death Magic in their worship?” She gestured to the sigils upon floor, growing more angry as she pointed out the ones that dealt with death, blood, and soul magics. “This Circle is used in the blackest of death magics. No 'benevolent' god or goddess would require or request such rites be done in their name. It's so corrupted, nothing of the Light could be cast within.”

 

A few of the men lowered their weapons, looking unsure. A few grew mutinous looks, positive the woman was mocking their God. The rest showed no adverse reaction, already well aware of the accusation. The Head Cleric, Tepis, smiled thinly, “Those without faith are quick to cast aspirations against that which goes against their world-view. The heretics would do anything to make the devout doubt themselves. I assure you, our most Benevolent God smiles upon our doings, knowing that only through cleansing sacrifice can we save our own souls and our world.”

 

888

 

“Geez, Daryl. Where did you come up with this stuff?” Rafe asked. Simon also looked over at his son, one brow raised.

 

“Had to do a report on Religious Cults for Poly. Sci. I found some interviews and propaganda. It was kind of scary how alike they sounded, despite their very different goals and views. I figured this guy was a bit of a nut case, so I mis-mashed a bunch of what I found together and voila!” 

 

888

 

“You have trespassed and must therefore pay the penalty of such an offense.”

 

“Wouldn't have needed to trespass if you hadn't kidnapped our friends.” Heron snarled, grasping the handle of his battle ax.

 

The Cleric's face twisted in disgust and flicked out a hand in dismissal. “Non-humans and aberrations.” 

 

“I might actually feel offended if I believed for even a moment that you weren't anything other than a prejudiced, ignorant buffoon spewing officious sounding offal.” Balen's voice cut through the air like a knife. The statement, combined with a bland, indifferent stare caused the Cleric to flush in rage.

 

8

 

Rianna had ignored the Cleric's pontificating, instead studying the mosaic in more detail; her own expression turning darker as she 'read' the magic. The magical artifacts, being in such close proximity to one another and the ritual circle, had warped somewhat and she stared, appalled at what they now stored. Sliding closer, she tugged on Hawk's sleeve, whispering, “There are souls trapped within. Whatever ritual he uses cuts loose the soul and the mosaic has become a large gathering device.” 

 

Hawk stared at her, horrified. “What can we do?”

 

“If we remove four artifacts, it will collapse upon itself, releasing the souls. However...”

 

“However?” Hawk prompted.

 

“I don't know how easy it will be to remove the artifacts, or even if the attempt is possible. And if we do remove them, there may be consequences we're not prepared to deal with.”

 

“Which ones?” Jaxon murmured having drifted to their side during the confrontation, his face grim and determined.

 

She subtly pointed, one being the very puzzle piece they needed. “We're going to have to be quick about it. That Cleric won't be happy when he discovers what we're doing.” They exchanged glances as Balen's biting comment caused the guards to step forward, weapons drawn. “No more time. Go. And good luck.”

 

As their friends engaged the guards, Jaxon yanked what looked like a glass encased circle that had numbers around the inside edge. He felt a jolt race through his body, but the artifact itself came off with ease. He shoved it into a pouch and turned to help in the fight.

 

Hawk pried off the puzzle piece using his dagger. Like Jaxon, he felt a jolt though his body, his hair rising with static. He also pocketed the piece and whirled about, weapon ready.

 

Rianna took a deep breath, grasping what looked like a brass sextant with her left hand and a long narrow cylindrical device with her right. The cylinder was engraved with runes that gave off a blue flash as she came contact with it and lifted it from its fellow artifacts. She felt something settle deep within her chest and shuddered as energy raced through each limb.

 

The mosaic flared brightly, practically blinding everyone in the room. The fighting stopped as sparks flew from artifact to artifact. An oily, noxious smoke poured from the wall as artifacts fused together, others charred, or exploded sending shrapnel through the room and into the combatants.  Balls of colored light streamed from the gemstones, congregating within the confines of the ritual circle, bobbing and darting in agitation.  “Destroy the Circle!” Rianna screamed.

 

Joryn raised his war hammer and with a cry brought it sharply upon tiles that made up a section of the ritual circle. Tepis shouted in denial, but it was too late, one of the tiles shattered into a million pieces, obliterating a sigil. The Circle was broken and the balls of light exploded into motion, zig-zagging around the room in a dizzying display. Some seemed to try and protect the company by placing themselves between the group and the dangerous looking smoke. Some separated combatants, pushing Tepis and his personal guards closer to the holding cells and the company and those guards who had no knowledge of the circle's true intentions toward the stairs. Chain lightning cascaded from the ruined mosaic striking Tepis and his men.

 

Balen blinked as a violet sphere paused in front of him. He nodded, bowing, then turned to scream, “Everyone out! The whole place is going to explode! Move it!”

 

As one, enemy and ally alike raced for the stairs. Guards peeled off at the main level, some heading upstairs, some down side corridor, alerting anyone in the building to escape while they could. Echoes of alarm could be heard as spirits streamed up and out of the building.

 

The companions made it to the main doors, helping novitiates and worshipers escape the Temple that was slowly being sucked into the earth – the ritual circle at the center of the newly created sinkhole. A sullen flare encompassed the building and vanished, taking the entire Temple and anyone still inside with it. People stared uncomprehendingly at the empty expanse, able to see those who had escaped from the opposite side of the building staring back. Silent, no one moved for several long moments, not sure what had happened, or if the event was over.

 

Simond lay a hand on each of his friends' shoulder, quietly gaining their attention. They left the area without attracting notice, knowing it wouldn't take much for the shock and disbelief to give was to rage if given the right motivation. And non-humans around the scene could give the crowd the target they needed. Jaxon looped an arm around Balen's waist, helping the half-elf along. Balen was done in, but no one wanted to temp fate by spending any more time in this accursed city.

 

Heron led the way, taking the group out by way of the southern gate. Once they were out of sight of Telengard, Myla administered Heal potions to any who needed them, but as a group they agreed to press on until they found themselves at the 'Wayward Wanderer'. As promised, the innkeeper had forwarded their belongings and the company tumbled into their beds unable to deal with anything else for the day.

 

888

 

Chapter 15:

 

“Wow!” Megan's eyes were alight as she grinned. “That was very cool!”

 

“So... we turned off the power to the containment grid?” Henri grinned at Daryl who snickered at the 'Ghost Busters' reference.

 

“Sounds about right.”

 

“Looks like the souls of those trapped took their revenge,” Rhonda said. “Who was the god the Clerics of the Flame worshiped? I don't remember any being so blatantly against half-breeds. But I could be wrong.”

 

“No. There aren't any. At least, not in the main books. Tepis was a fake, he didn't actually worship any god, so his spells weren't divinely powered. He was actually an Illusionist and used those artifacts to do all his 'miracles'. If he's lucky, the gods and goddesses won't torment him during his afterlife for daring to impersonate a deity.”

 

“Good encounter, Daryl” Jim relaxed against the cushions. “What next?”

 

Daryl glanced at his watch, wincing a bit. “It's almost six. I figure we can take a break for dinner. Then, if everyone is still interested, we can move on to the final segment of the adventure. You have all the puzzle pieces – you just have to figure out what to do next.”

 

“Oh, yes. I vote for continuing. I've just got to find out how this all ends.” Rhonda tilted her head as she looked at the others. “How about you guys?”

 

Everyone agreed that it would be a crime to leave the adventure unfinished. Deciding on fried chicken for dinner with all the fixings, the group relaxed for an hour commenting on what had already been discovered in the game as well as plans for the rest of the weekend.

 

8

 

“When you snapped in the last piece, the box glowed. The map upon its surface changes once more. This spot – you feel certain – is where you need to be in order to successfully open the box and retrieve that which it hides. It leads to a remote area about a three week journey to the East.

 

888

 

'The Wayward Wanderer' was a god-send to the weary band. Everyone felt blessed that hot baths were available, the food plentiful, and the employees polite and discrete. Nervous about been so near Telengard, the company only spent the single night before continuing their travels, though that night and the following morning brought rumors that with the Temple destroyed, many of the new converts were trying to figure out just why they had changed their affiliations in the first place. Several of the smaller, private temples had sudden influx of past member, most being accepted again as coercion spells faded.  A hunt was being held for Tepis and the other clerics high in the Temple's hierarchy, but so far no sign of had been found.

 

“I guess the spirits dealt with them,” Myla offered.

 

“Good riddance,” Rianna practically spat. “Anyone who would do such a thing deserves any punishment meted out.” N o one argued with her, especially with Balen's chair conspicuously empty as the half-elf had retired after finding the rooftop garden and claiming it as his sleeping space away from any others and outside enclosing walls.

 

The following morning, still somewhat subdued, Balen joined them as they packed their gear on their horses in preparation to leave. No one pressed, but each took a moment to help re-center the half-elf; a touch on the arm, a gentle smile, a joke – reminding him that there were still people who valued him.

 

They trekked Eastward for three weeks; villages becoming further and further apart until the last place they could stop for provisions had been a tiny hamlet. It was there that they learned something about the area in which they headed.

 

The old man shook his head when he heard of their destination. “No one in living memory around these parts have ever known the area to be anything other than a wasteland. There's not an oasis or any water to be found for near on a week in any direction. Last three hundred years or so it's been the arid desert you see now. They say the Elves have some journals written by merchants that used to do business way back then. According to the documents, there was a city in what's now the center of the desert. Pretty prosperous. Then, one day, it up and vanished.” He shrugged, chewing on a toothpick. “No ruins were found. But there were rumors of a fabulous treasure that could be found at the spot. Every now and then you get treasure hunters looking. If they don't succumb to the heat and dangerous terrain, or random roaming beasts, they usually leave disappointed.”

 

“What do you think is out there?” Hawk asked eagerly.

 

Another shrug. “Maybe an artifact of some power. Maybe a tomb of the previous rulers of the city filled with their earthly belongings. Maybe nothing but sand and blood. I don't know. I'm content with what I have and have no desire looking for supposed riches.”

 

8

 

“How much farther? Jaxon eyed the horses with concern; the terrain more treacherous than expected. Pockmarked with gopher holes and sharp edges of stone, one of the pack horses had bruised the frog of its foot and necessitated they camp earlier than planned in order to allow it to rest and recover. They had a limited amount of supplies, he figured they could travel two, maybe three more days before they'd be forced to return to the hamlet.

 

Hawk studied the map, having used prior stopping points to measure out the distance needed to travel. “Another day. We need to head further north, but should get there in six to eight hours at this pace. You spoke with the old man longer than any of us, any ideas what we might expect to find, Joryn?”

 

The Dwarf shook his head. “The last group of treasure hunters encountered nothing more dangerous than a nesting pair of fire salamanders. He didn't know of any other monsters that may have wandered into the area recently. Doesn't mean there aren't any, so we should keep a weather eye out. The fact that no water or oasis can be found is usually enough of a deterrent for anyone other than madmen or fools.”

 

“So, what does that make us?” Rianna pushed strands of hair from her face, grimacing as it stuck to her neck and cheek in sweat-soaked locks. She readjusted her headscarf, keeping the sun from beating down on her face.

 

“Adventurers,” Heron responded promptly. “We at least have a valid reason for braving the wasteland. More so than others, at least.” He pointed at the box Hawk carried. A wind sprung up forcing the group to wrap lengths of cloth around their mouths and noses to keep the stinging sand at bay.

 

“Just another term for fools and madmen,” Balen stated. “Why else would a person abandon hearth and home to wander the earth encountering unknown dangers and possible death in the slim hope of fame and fortune?”

 

Not able to honestly argue the point, the group rode on in silence. At each resting point, which occurred more frequently as the sun rose in the sky, Balen used his 'Create Water' spell to ensure neither man nor beast died from dehydration. The journey was miserable, but the possibilities once they reached their destination buoyed their spirits.

 

Hawk handed the box over to Myla and the Cleric moved closer to both Balen and Rianna to see if there were any clues on how to open the thing. “I know it will take spells from each of us. I'm just not sure if they're specific spells that are needed to open it or all it really requires is the type of spell. You know, does it matter which spell as long as it's cast by a Mage, Cleric, and Druid?”

 

“How will we figure that out?” Rianna had turned the box over, minutely examining each of the sides to see if there were any clues as to how it opened. Other than the map on the top, the rest was featureless.

 

“It might not matter which spells are cast,” Jaxon offered from where he rode nearby. At their questioning glances he elaborated. “How often do you have the three different magic users willingly working together in anything? Honestly? Most Clerics, depending on the religion, are pretty friendly; but Mages tend to hold to themselves, being unwilling to combine their magic with even other Mages, let alone different magic styles. As for Druids, they're so secluded and secretive, rarely leaving their guardianships; it's nearly unheard of for one to combine their magic, especially for anything as mundane as treasure.”

 

“Fair enough,” Myla conceded. “When we get there, we'll see if the box lets us know anything else, then try some basic spells.”

 

The sun was about to set when they finally made it to the spot on the map. Camp was set up and the group agreed to sleep so that they would all be well rested for the attempt. If things went wrong, no one wanted to have to fight in the dark. A campfire kept the desert chill from their bones. A full moon allowed those on watch to have a good view, but the land appeared desolate; not even a coyote called. The following morning, after a fortifying breakfast, the magic users strode over to the spot indicated on the map. No other signs or instruction appeared on its surface.  Shrugging, they nestled the box in the sand and stood around it in a loose circle, waited until everyone else nodded their readiness, then, in unison, cast their spells.

 

At first, nothing seemed to happen; the box lay innocently upon the sand while the sun crested the horizon. About to speak, Myla gasped in surprise as the top of the box sprung open  A green light suffused the area, a trill of music filled the air, and each smelled the scent of lilacs in their nose. The world flickered around them. Off balance, they tried to keep their feet. Their horses whinnied unhappily, prancing in agitation as the sand beneath their hooves shifted back and forth from sand to cobblestones.

 

The world settled and the group stared in awe. Surrounding them was a city, the cobblestones done in a mosaic design of red and brown stones, the buildings made of white stone, gleaming and clean. Trees lined the fairway, alternating with ornate statues. Fountains with benches nestled within small courtyards, the sound of water soothing to the ear. Grass and flowers gave the areas a park-like look, combining functionality with beauty.

 

“Gorgeous,” Rianna murmured getting assenting noises from the others as they stared, feeling somewhat out of place in their travel-stained attire.

 

“I wasn't expecting this.” Hawk trailed his fingers through the water of a nearby fountain. “Not sure exactly what I was expecting, but it wasn't this.”

 

“Something portable, expensive, and easily sold,” Heron grinned to take any sting out of his words. Hawk merely nodded in agreement, a wry grin upon his face.

 

“I wonder what happened to all the people?” Myla studied the blank windows for motion.

 

“It's been at least three hundred years. If the people weren't displaced when the city disappeared, they probably died off when the food ran out.” Joryn moved over to one of the buildings, perhaps the city's Main Hall; the heavy stone door opened smoothly at a touch -perfectly balanced.

 

“I have a hard time believing they remained here for any length of time,” Jaxon gestured to the city's pristine conditions. “People in those situations tend to panic and become destructive, especially as despair grips them”

 

Simond agreed having witnessed such panic firsthand during the wars. “So, either they were not here, or were suspended along with the city.” He joined Joyrn, entering the building. “Let's see if anyone's at home.”

 

Scrolls, parchment, and quills covered the tables in what looked like a personal office. A half-filled plate and mug stood off to one side, as if the diner had simply stepped away for a moment. The parchment in front of the chair had ended mid-sentence, giving further weight to the theory that whatever occurred had happened without warning. From the documents, they discovered the city's name – Kapizon.

 

They spent the rest of the day exploring Kapizon. Everywhere were signs that the people had been completely unprepared for whatever happened. Tables with half-eaten meals, chores partially done, baths untaken. No bodies, though. If people had died, it hadn't been here.

 

They found libraries full of rare and exotic books; treasure troves of equipment and artifacts; laboratories organized and ready to work on both magical and mundane experiments. Literally wealth untold.

 

Simond eyed  the small cottage along the outskirts of town, even to unmagical eyes the air seemed to glow from some powerful magical effect. He had a feeling this is where they'd find their answers. He motioned the others over and entered. Three skeletons lay upon small cots in one corner of the room, hands crossed peacefully upon their breasts, empty mugs on the floor beside them. On a small bookshelf stood several journals. He handed them out, “Hopefully one of them will tell us what happened.”

 

“I think I know what happened,” Rianna stated an hour later.  “Most of the citizens of Kapizon were scholars or researchers either of the magical or mundane variety. So, a lot of what was created was done just for the sheer joy of creating it. No plans were made for mass production or practical applications. Most of it was benign, but a lot of it could be transformed into pretty horrible weapons. Well, seems a ruthless warlord heard about what was going on here and tried to take over the city. He hired mercenary soldiers and magic users to overwhelm the city's defenses in order to take the resources, magics, and technologies for himself. As he knew only the citizens could work any of the inventions, he planned to capture the city with as few fatalities as possible and use mind control in order to get what he wanted.

 

“Obviously not wanting that to happen, the rulers of the city had everyone research and develop ways to protect themselves. The plan they chose was created by Tieran Blaze, a Cleric of the Moon Goddess, Valorn Bilgepot, a Fourth Tier Mage of the Crimson sun, and Mica Glen, a Druid.  They had a Dwarven craftsman, Sevrin Marstone, create the puzzle box that was the key to the entire spell. The spell was supposed to send the entire city out of phase save for Marstone who would be sent far away with the key – the pieces would scatter across the continent as an added protection in case the warlord found Marstone. Once the warlord was no longer a threat, Marstone was to gather a Cleric, Mage, and Druid to open the box and release the spell, returning the city to the proper time.”

 

“Seems something went wrong with that idea,” Heron's gesture encompassed the room.

 

“Yeah. The spell went awry – even after several years they couldn't figure out how. The city and the casters were sent out of phase, but like the puzzle pieces,  all of the citizens were scattered across the continent. Safe, but with no knowledge of the city until the spell was released.”

 

Simond frowned, “How did they know that?”

 

“Once they discovered the people gone, they scryed, finding Marstone and a few of the other citizens they knew. Marstone had no recollection as to what the box did or that there were pieces to be found. He lived out the rest of his life as a respected craftsman.  The three here tried for years to reverse the spell, to no avail. When absolutely every last avenue had been exhausted, the three chose to end their lives. The herbs they added to their wine let them slip away in their sleep.” She gently closed the journal, replacing it upon the bookshelf, her expression sad.

 

“What do we do now?” Hawk asked, a bit overwhelmed by the enormity of their find.

 

“That's a very good question,” Simond responded.

 

888

 

“And that's an excellent place to end,” Daryl said.

 

“That was terrific, Daryl.” Blair rocked to his feet, a wide grin upon his face. “It's even set up for continuing adventures if you have a long-term group.” He began stacking plates.

 

“Loved it, kiddo,” Megan reached over and kissed the young man's cheek. The teen blushed, a wide smile stretching his mouth. The smile widened when Rhonda repeated the gesture.

 

“Best birthday party ever,” he agreed, gathering his dice and papers.

 

“Thank you for inviting me. This was a lot of fun.” Joel clapped Daryl upon the shoulder before reaching over to collect glasses and mugs. He followed Blair into the kitchen.

 

Both Rafe and Henri grabbed up the rest of the trash while Jim gathered the left over food to store in the refrigerator. “Excellent storytelling. It's definitely something that I'd play again if I had the chance.”

 

Simon wrapped an arm around his son's shoulders, pride evident in his eyes. “Well done. You should really consider having it published. I'll help you out if you need it, too.”

 

Everyone agreed that the weekend had been a success. After setting the living room back to rights, people said their goodbyes and headed home.

 

 

888

Began May 2000 – finished February 2012.

Revised, edited, and 'finally' posted – February 2013


End file.
